P ^55l ^Unscientific fiction by: 9
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NOVEMBER
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AMAZING STORIES
673
November, 1931
N FAME^FORIUNE,
RADIO'
Scores of jobs are open to the Trained Man — jobs as
Designer, Inspector and Tester — as Radio Salesman and
in Service and Installation work — as Operator, Meehan*
ic or Manager of a Broadcasting station — as Wireless
Operator on a Ship or Airplane — jobs with Talking Pic-
ture Theatres and Manufacturers of Sound Equipment
— with Television Laboratories and Studios — fascinat-
ing jobs, offering unlimited opportunities to the Trained Man.
Ten Weeks of Shop Training
Come to Coyne in Chicago and
for these jobs the
ON ACTUAL RADIO EQUIP-
MENT. Some students finish
the entire course in 8 weeks.
The average time is only 10
weeks. But you can stay as
long as you please, at no extra
cost to you. No previous ex-
perience necessary.
Studioand modernTransmitter with
1, 000 watt tubes— the Jenkins Tele-
vision Transmitter with dozens of
home- type Television receiving sets
— and a complete Talking Picture
installation for both ‘ ‘sound on film’ ’
and “sound on disk.” |We have
spared no expense in our effort to
make your training as COMPLETE
and PRACTICAL as possible.
Free Employment
Service to Students
r;
After you have finished the course,
we will do all we can to help you find
the job you want. We employ
three men on a full time basis
whose sole job is to help our
students in finding positions.
And should you be a little short
of funds, we’ll gladly help you
in finding part-time work
H. C. Lewis, Pres. Radio Division Founded XS*»
Coyne Electrical School
500 8. Pavlina Street Dept. 81-8C, Chicago, Illinois
TELEVISION and
Talking Pictures
In addition to the most modern Ra-
dio equipment, we have installed in
our shops a complete model Broad-
casting Station, with sound-proof
while at school. Some of our stu-
dents pay a large part of their liv-
ing expenses in this way.
Coyne Is 32 Years Old
Coyne has been located right here
in Chicago since 1899. Coyne
Training is tested— proven by
hundreds of successful graduates.
You can get all the facts— FREE.
JUST MAIL THE COUPON FOR
A FREE COPY OF OUR BIG RA-
DIO AND TELEVISION BOOK,
telling all about jobs . . . salaries
... opportunities. This does not ob-
ligate you. Just mail the coupon.
C. LEWIS. President
Radio Division, Coyne Electrical School i
500 S. Paulina St, Dept tl-IC, Chicago, III. |
Send me your Big Free Radio, Television I
and Talking Picture Book. This does not I
obligate me in any way.
Name.
Address
City.
State,
i
JULES VERNE’S TOMBSTONE AT AMIENS
PORTRAYING HIS IMMORTALITY
Amazing Stories
Scientific Fiction
Vol. 6 November, 1931 No. 8
I n Our Nexi I ssue
THE INEVITABLE CONFLICT, by Paul H.
Lovering. (A Serial in 2 parts) Fart I. Where
will these demands for equal rights for women
end? Perhaps, after many more wars are fought,
women may — with cries for eternal peace — gain
the upper hand. What kind of a world would this
be, ruled by a Matriarchy? A topsy-turvy world?
Perhaps. But read what Mr. Lovering thinks
about such a possible world — in the far future.
PIRATES OF SPACE, by B. X. Barry. Accord-
ing to present-day newspaper accounts, pirates
seem to have come again into vogue. But the
pirates of the future, when interplanetary travel
has become an everyday occurrence, and when nu-
merous interplanetary marvels have been dis-
closed, will undoubtedly work their ends in a very
much different manner. Here is an exciting in-
terplanetary novelette that must bring you much
enjoyment and many thrills.
SKY COPS, by Harl Vincent and Charles Roy
Cox. Traffic in the airl That sounds humorous,
but for how long? If the automobile roads be-
come very much congested, a great many of us
will have to take to the air and perhaps go to other
planets. Naturally there will be need for traffic
cops in the air. But what a job will be theirs!
This is a fast-moving story of sustained interest.
TUMITHAK OF THE CORRIDORS, by Charles
R. Tanner. It is not necessarily cowardice that
makes a people retreat further and further from
an enemy which has ruthlessly brought complete
destruction and death to thousands. It is sensible
caution that comes with experience. But always
there is someone — in generations far removed, per-
haps — who dares to risk all in an effort to release
his people from the bonds of such enslaving fears.
Tumithak goes through many corridors to achieve
his ends.
And other unusual science fiction
U Our November Issue
Automaton
By Abner J. Gelula 680
Illustration by Morey
The Rat Racket
By Daznd H. Keller, M.D 698
Illustration by Morey
Luvium
By A. R. McKenzie 706
Illustration by Morey
The Antarctic Transformation
By I. R. Nathans on 720
Illustration by Morey
The Stone from the Green Star
(A Serial in tivo parts ) Part II
By Jack Williamson 730
Illustration by Morey»
In the Realm of Books 762
Discussions 763
Our Cover
this issue, depicts a scene from the story entitled, “The Stone
from the Green Star,” by Jack Williamson, in which our hero
from the past finds himself in deadly combat with the strange,
uncanny, intelligent creatures inhabiting the Green Star and
guarding the stone of life.
Cover illustration by Morey
Published Monthly by Teck Publishing Corporation, Washington and South Avenues, Dunellen, N. J.
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OFFICERS 350 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK CITY, N. Y.
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Warren P Jefferv 1 N. J.. under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright, 1931, by
tr nr • ? Vice Presidents Teck Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved. Title Reg-
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change of address must reach
us five weeks in advance of
the next date of issue.
674
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
675
His Salary was Raised while
others were Reduced
“Up to the time l enrolled for a coarse with the International
Correspondence Schools, l had only a grade-school educa-
tion. Since enrolling, I have advanced to a much better
position, where my salary is nearly four times as much as /
was making previously. I would not be able to hold my
present position had I not taken your course. Recently
1 received a nice increase in salary, while other men were
being reduced."
Read that last sentence again — “Re-
cently I received a nice increase in
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There could be no better proof of
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that. It shows that the trained man is
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paid more money, even in slack times,
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open for men who have the foresight
to prepare for them in spare time.
Jesse G. Vincent was a toolmaker
before he enrolled with the I. C. S. He
is now Vice-president of the Packard
Motor Car Co. Walter Chrysler,
President of the Chrysler Corporation,
is also a former I. C. S. student. So is
“Eddie” Rickenbacker, the famous fly-
ing ace, who is now Director of Sales
for the La Salle car.
An I. C. S. course enabled Fred W.
Eouthworth to leave a poorly paying
job he had held for twenty years and L.
get a position as a salesman. In six
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George A. Grieble is another man
who lifted himself out of the rut by
spare-time study. He was a stone-cutter
earning $15 a week when he enrolled
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tween $10,000 and $15,000 a year.”
If the I. C. S. can help these men to
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can help you too. If it can raise the
salaries of other men, it can raise yours )
At least find out how.
The way is easy! Just mark the
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Then mail it to Scranton today.
This doesn’t obligate you in any way,
but it brings you information that may
start you on a successful career. This
is your opportunity.
Mail Coupon for Free Booklet
INTERNATIONAL CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOLS. Bn 57SI-B. Strait™. Pinna.
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particulars about the subject before which I hare marked X:
TECHNICAL AND INDUSTRIAL C0URSE8
□ Plumbing and Heal in*
□ Surveying and Mapping
□ Mining
□ Steam Engineering
□ Radio
□ Architect
□ Architects' Blueprints
□ Contractor and Builder
BUSINESS TRAINING C0URSE8
□ Electrical Engineering
J Electric Lighting
□ Mechanical Engineer
J Mechanical Draftsman
J Machine Shop Practice
J Railroad Positions
J (las Engine Operating
□ Civil Engineer
□ Business Management
L Industrial Management
U Personnel Management
L Traffic Management
□ Accounting
and C. P. A. Coaching
U Coat Accounting
Name
□ Bookkeeping
J Secretarial Work
J Spanish □ French
□ Salesmanship
□ Advertising
J Business Correspondence
J Show Card and Sign Lettering
J Architectural Draftsman
J Concrete Builder
□ Structural Engineer
□ Chemistry □ Pharmacy
J Automobile Work
□ Airplane Engine*
□ Navigation
J Mathematics
□ Stenography and Typing
J English
J Civil Service
J Hallway Mall Clerk
□ Common School Subject!
□ High School Subjects
J Illustrating □ Cartooning
Street Address
City.. a, State
If yen reside in Canada, send this coupe** to the International Correspondence Schools Canadian. Limited,
Montreal, Canada
676
AMAZING STORIES
November, 1931
Broadcasting Stations offer fascinating
jobs paying from $1,200 to $5,000 n year.
']09Vte Warned
Take your pick of these
fine Big Pay Radio Jobs
Police Departments ore finding Radio a
great aid In their work. Many good jobs
have been made in this new field.
Television — the coming field of many
great opportunities — is covered by my
course
Movies — an invention made
radio men, paying $75 to $200
a week.
Y OU have seen how the men and young men who got into the automo-
bile, motion picture and other industries when they were started had
the first chance at the key jobs — are now the $5,000, $10,000 and
$15,000 a year men. Radio offers you the same chance that made men rich in
those businesses. Its growth has already made men independent and will make
many more wealthy in the future. Its amazing growth can put you ahead, too.
Don’t pass up this opportunity for a good job and future financial independence.
Many Good, $50 to $100 a Week
Job* Opening Every Year
Radio needs more trained men
badly. Why slave your life away for
$25 to $40 a week in a no-future job
when you can get ready in a short
time for Radio where the good jobs
pay $50, $60, $75 and $100 a week?
And many of these jobs can quickly
lead to $150 to $200 a week. Many
fine jobs are opening every year for
men with the right training — the
kind of training I’ll give you.
I am Doubling and Tripling
Salaries
Where you find big growth you
always find many big opportunities.
I am doubling and tripling the sal-
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they are able to make $1,000 to
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Many Make $10 to $25 a Week
Extra Almost at Once
The day you start I’ll show you
how to do twenty-eight jobs common
in most every neighborhood that you
can do in your spare time. I’ll show
you how to repair and service all
makes of sets and do many other jobs
all through my course. I’ll give you
the plans and ideas that are making
$200 to $1,000 for my students while
they are taking my course. G. W.
Page, 133 Pine Street, McKenzie,
Tenn., writes: “I made $935 in my
spare time while taking your course.”
You Have Many Jobs
to Choose From
Broadcasting stations use engineer
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facturers continually need testers, inspec-
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Be sure to get it at once.
$400 a Month
“I spent fifteen years as
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stead. Radio Station KYA,
San Francisco, Cal.
$800 in Spare Time
"Money could not pay for
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I did not know a single thing
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but I have made $800 in my
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Every word I ever read about
your course I have found
true.” Milton I. Teiby, Jr.,
Topton, Pennsylvania.
Seldom Under $100 a Week
"My earnings in Radio are
many times greater than I
ever expected them to be. In
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cember $646, January $464.
My earnings seldom fall
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the N. R. I. course is thor-
ough and complete. You give
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than anybody else.” E. W.
Winbome, 1267 W. 48th St.,
Norfolk, Va.
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
677
fur
Blgpay
Radio
Job
I will train you AT HOME
free book gives facts and proof
Will Train You at Home
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Hold your job. There is no need
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ready to take a responsible job in
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Television and Talking
Pictures Included
My course not only gives you a
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ing and Merchandising. You
won’t be a “one job” man when
you finish my course. You’ll know
how to handle a job in any one of
Radio’9 20 different branches of
opportunity.
Lifetime Employment
Service to All Graduates
When you finish my course you
won’t be turned loose to shift for
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in to help you find a job through
my Employment Department. This
Employment Service is free of ex-
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employer.
Your Money Back If Not
Satisfied
You do not risk a penny when
you enroll with me. I will give you
an agreement in writing, legal and
binding upon the institute, to re-
fund every penny of your money
if, upon completing my course, you
are not satisfied with my Lessons
and Instruction Service. The re-
sources of the N. R. I., Pioneer
and Largest Home-Study Radio
training organization, stands back
of this agreement.
Find Out What Radio Offers
You — Get My Book at Once
One copy of my valuable book,
“Rich Rewards in Radio,” is free
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will bring you a copy. Send it at
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Dept,
Salary Three Times Large*
“Before I completed your
course I went to work for a
Radio dealer. Now I am
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the Sparks-Withington Com-
pany. My salary la three
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H. A. Wilmoth, Spark*- With-
ingtoD Company.
give You 8 Big Outfits
. of Radio parte far
Seven tube screen
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J. E. SMITH, President
National Radio Institute
1 M S WASHINGTON, D. C.
You can build over 100 circuits with the outfits I give
you. You learn from actual experience about A. C.,
Screen Grid Circuits, push-pull amplification and the
other features in modern sets. Shown here are two of
the outfits you build. You work out with your hands the
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from my lesson books.
You get as much prac-
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Clip and mail NOW for
FREE INFORMATION
J. E. Smith, President,
National Radio Institute, Dept. IMS
16th and U Sts., N. W„ Washington, D. C.
Dear Mr. Smith : Send me “Rich Rewards in Radio.”
Tell me more about Radio’s opportunities for good Jobs
and quick promotion ; also about your practical method
of Home Training. I understand this request does not
obligate me and that no agent will call on me.
Name
Address
City State
678
AMAZING STORIES
November, 1931
975 a Week
(or Dobbins
Hy graduate, R. _N.
Dobbins, got a job
immediately after
finishing my course.
Now he’s earning
$75 a week as Chief
Instructor at a big
Aviation School in
New York!
Let Me Show
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EARN $60 to $100 a Week
and UP in AVIATION!
My up-to-date home study Course gives you the ground work you need to
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Over fbrty different types of jobs to choose from, once you have this
necessary training. Get the facts about my practical training, free Em-
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I Teach You QUICKLY—
at Home in Your Spare Time
You don’t need to give up your present job — don’t need to
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backed by over 400,000 miles of flying — five years of in-
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No Previous Experience Needed
You don't even need a high school education
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all over the country.
FREE Air-
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Right now I’m mak-
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rn Help Yon
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Walter Hinton
First to fly the Atlan-
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Extravagant Fiction Today Cold Fact Tomorrow
Heavy Stone
By T. O’Conor Sloane, Ph.D.
|RON, the commonest of the metals, has a very
i curious history. A few of the interesting things
about it were spoken of in our last issue. Nickel
[ and cobalt resemble it in magnetic properties, but
iron stands absolutely alone in its relation to the
magnetic field. It is the only metal that will give
goo^ service, the only one which offers compara-
tively little reluctance to the passage of magnetic lines of force.
This is why it is used for armatures and field cores in electric
motors and generators. If it is of proper quality, it will pass
the lines of force, as a conductor will pass a current, and will
retain but a minimum quantity when the exciting current is cut
off. But this refers to pure iron and to iron especially adapted
to electro-magnetic machinery — iron containing carbon will retain
lines of force and will retain and keep a field of force once it
has been excited ; it becomes a permanent magnetic. To produce
a first quality steel for permanent magnets, the iron must con-
tain carbon and generally some other metal, but all additions in
very small amount — the principal and essential constituent of
magnet steel is iron.
One of the standard additions to iron is the metal tungsten —
“heavy stone” is what the name means. The name was originally
given by Swedish miners to the ore of this metal, who had
noticed lumps of it in mines of iron ore and were impressed by
its high specific gravity.
Another name for the identical mineral is wolfram, which is
supposed to mean “wolf’s soot” — certainly not at all a suggestive
name. The German word “rahm” means “cream” and also “soot” ;
the latter is the best selection for the etymology of wolfram.
The effect of tungsten upon iron has brought about a true
revolution in shop practise. One of the great troubles in lathe
work drilling and milling in former times was the destruction of
the points and cutting edges of the tools. Machine lathes, drill
presses and the like had to be driven at very low speed, cut-
ting a very thin chip, and with constant lubrication of the
surface which was operated on. The writer remembers his own
experiences with a lathe in turning iron before the days of
tungsten— the irritating slowness and constant application of oil
in quantity. Sometimes soft-soap was kept flowing in a stream
on the point of the tool.
And then came the revolution. Tungsten steel preserved its
cutting power when red hot. It can be run without a lubricant
at high speed and with a deep cut. The chips will fall from the
lathe or other machine so hot that they will oxidize to a blue
color, giving one of the trade names for the metal, “blue chip
steel.” It would be interesting to put a tungsten worker on a
lathe with the old time carbon steel tools. The points of the
tools would crumble in a few minutes. It is fair to say that
few people realize what this unattractive and almost unwork-
able metal has done in industry, when melted up with iron ir»
small percentage.
It is astonishing to see a high speed tool cut great shavings
from solid steel as easily as if it were lead.
Iron and carbon steel are easily melted compared to tungsten.
Platinum is so infusible that chemists used it for their crucibles
before its price made it prohibitive. In degrees centigrade, tungs-
ten is nearly twice as infusible as platinum. Iron volatilizes at
2450°C, but tungsten only melts at 3400°C and Langmuir has
determined its boiling point at 5830° C. The only metal that
approaches tungsten in infusibility is tantalum, which melts at
2900°C. The latter has been tried as a filament in incandescent
lamps, and the curious conclusion was announced that all the
tantalum in the world would only supply the lamps for a year.
It is evident that tungsten was a tempting proposition as the
material for the filament of an incandescent lamp. It is a recent
achievement to apply it to this use ; it is so intractable that for
a time there was no hope of drawing it into filament wire.
But when the tungsten filament lamp came into being, the
economy of lighting was trebled. Instead of sixteen candle
power bulbs, with what were facetiously called red-hot hairpins,
twenty-five to fifty candle power lamps are now universal, thanks
to the “heavy stone” metal.
This is not the first time we have spoken of what tungsten has
done in the field of electric lighting. The curious thing about
the metal is that it has done its most-revolutionary work in
just two departments of engineering. A newly discovered metal,
for all practical purposes it was that thing, although it had been
known for many years as one of the metallic elements. It could
act in two principal roles. One was, when alloyed with iron,
to cut iron and steel more vigorously than the carpenter’s chisel
cuts wood. If it got red-hot in the process, if great chips and
turnings fell on the floor so hot that they might start a confla-
gration, if the too eager workman dug the point of the tool in so
deeply as to stop the machine and slip the belt, the wonderful
tungsten steel alloy was the last to suffer. Then, to go to the
other extreme, we have the delicate almost invisible filament of
the metal which has trebled the efficiency of the electric lamp,
and where the only obstacle to the economy involved is in the
personal element, for people used three times the light they used
five years ago and fifty times that which satisfied our grand-
parents. There we have the almost invisible wire of the metal
to contrast with the machine-shop’s great cutting alloy.
679
d Automaton
By Abner J. Gelula
/ T has been almost within the dreams of mechanical scientists to create what
they call a thinking machine — a machine that will be capable not only of
doing things under the manipulative care of man , but a machine that will be
able to think for itself. Some of the dangerous consequences incident to such a
creation are fairly obvious. A number of the advantages can easily be seen.
But what the psychological consequences of a successful, thinking automaton
might be on the human being is another matter — a most interesting one as set
forth m this new story of scientific
Illustrated
T HE generations aided him. Scientific
genius of yesteryear laid the foundations for
his work of a decade. The centuries each
made its contribution to this ultimate in sci-
entific achievement. And now, viewing his
Brain-child as a reality, he breathed a sigh of satisfac-
tion. The dream of a lifetime had become a realization.
The years of toil and discouragements had finally borne
fruit.
A solitary piece of furniture — a huge Morris chair —
held the squat, misshapen form of Professor Karl Holtz.
The laboratory floor covered with discarded wheels,
wire, tubes and trash rarely gave him concern until, per-
chance, he dropped some tiny screw which might be an
integral part of a machine, and he had to search through
the debris to locate it. The white walls were bare except
for the myriads of figures scrawled in haste as formulae
were called upon to solve some knotty problem, when
paper was not readily available. An ordinary wooden
bench, some five feet in length and situated at the far
end of the room, served him well through the years of
experimentation, while two dust-laden, overhanging
shaded electric lamps gave mute evidence of a total dis-
regard for such an incidental nicety as mere cleanliness.
A tall, sallow-complexioned young man stood next to
the professor, his hand to his chin gently stroking an un-
kempt beard. He gazed meditatively upon the rather
unique piece of machinery on the workbench, represent-
ing to him the finale of three years’ unremitting, concen-
trated study — three years of an almost maddening se-
clusion.
A problem had been presented. As the lone assistant
to Professor Holtz, he felt now the exhilaration of hav-
ing successfully carried out the terms of a bargain — to
remain on the job until either the problem at hand had
been solved, or the Professor acknowledged its impossi-
by MOREY
bility. Alan Martin certainly held no enviable position.
He was subservient to a driving taskmaster. His hours
of toil were most gruelling; a less ruggedly built consti-
tution would have fallen long before. Salary was most
meager, but for the present this mattered little since he
seldom left the immediate vicinity of the spacious house
in which the laboratory was located.
At the outset, Martin recognized the fact that the
aged savant was no ordinary scientist. His remarkably
capable brain soon earned the younger man’s confidence
in the project, albeit this confidence was called upon
many times to withstand the crushing blows of failure
upon failure. But he never faltered. Theoretically, he
knew the project to be possible, and it was hope and the
professor’s dogged perseverance that spurred him on in
the face of blasting discouragements. How often, when
success seemed just within grasp, it would disappear like
a desert mirage and failure would again laugh mockingly
in his ears 1 But the principle was true. Time and time
again, he and the elder scientist would discard the prod-
uct of months of work to launch out on a new line of
thought, both sharing the enthusiasm born of a love for
humanity and seeking to liberate it from the demands of
Genesis, from earning your living by the sweat of your
brow.
The pecuniary benefits, with the completion of the in-
strument, would be most gratifying, it is true, but mone-
tary ambitions were strictly secondary. It had to be
something more than mere financial hopes to hold these
two men together, weathering the storms of discourage-
ment, in order to bring into practical being a theory al-
most fantastic in its ambitions !
An unknown youth of twenty-one was Martin when,
three years before, Professor Holtz sought him out. Al-
though the professor left his chair as dean of the school
of Electro-Mechanical Engineering of the University of
680
With an unusual alacrity, the Iron Man
reached out its powerful appendages and
held both Martin and the girl in vise-like
grips against its metal body.
681
682
AMAZING STORIES
Colorado, almost ten years before this time, he kept
closely in touch with developments there. He inter-
viewed graduate after graduate who held promise of
being able to aid him in realizing his dream of a life-
time, but even here he met with discouragement. A
major interest in remuneration and hours of labor
seemed to be the predominating consideration. It was
little Wonder then that the Professor began to lose heart
in his search for aid to bring into reality his long fos-
tered dream. His physical condition could no longer
keep pace with his brain.
Then came Martin. In all fairness, however, it must
be known that, when the minor financial compensation
was mentioned, plus the demand for unrelenting toil, he
also hesitated. But the recommendation the Professor
received from the college was not without foundation.
Martin had graduated with full honors. His love for
science superseded all else. His enviable laboratory rec-
ord; his dogged persistence and his store of theoretical
and practical knowledge caused a second thought in
favor of the man. The Professor urged him to visit his
laboratory, which was secluded in a sparsely populated
section of the New Jersey pine belt, with the hope that
his becoming acquainted with the work then in progress
would sway him in favor of his offer.
But this was three years ago. Needless to say, Mar-
tin acdepted, although the basic reason for his accep-
tance cannot be laid to his love of the laboratory.
It was at lunch upon his initial visit to the laboratory
that he first met Theresa. How clearly he remembered
this first meeting! His clear, cold, calculating, scientifi-
cally trained mind marveled within itself as to how
easily it had been swayed by emotion. He who consid-
ered emotions only from a psychological standpoint — as
a product of cause and effect — was being entranced by
this slip of a girl — rosy-cheeked — fair-haired — charm-
ing.
Although he had known her scarcely an hour, it
seemed as if the acquaintance was one formed in eter-
nity. He had been charmed by her. A sort of hypnosis.
But what did it matter? He had never known a girl who
could create so powerful an impression 1 When she
spoke, it was like the tinkle of bells — so soft — melodious
— beautiful 1
But here, he thought, was he being carried away? He
laughed. Of course not. Interested? Perhaps, but
surely nothing more than a mere interest. Love? Ri-
diculous! Love is merely a restrained sexual impulse.
An emotion of the flesh, easily controlled by a psycho-
logical understanding of the condition — controlled hy an
understanding of the condition — controlled
Damn it! What a fool he was! Why control it? He
had never experienced an emotion quite so pleasurable
and now — now he was attempting to repulse it to prove
an idealistic power of mind. Suppose he was more in-
terested in Theresa than in any girl he had ever known
previously? Surely, varying degrees of interest are per-
missible.
“Theresa is my ward,” the Professor explained. “I
adopted her when she was scarcely two years old. When
my widowed sister died she secured my promise that I
would raise her as my own daughter.” Professor Holtz
beamed as he spoke of the girl. He loved her more than
anything else in the world. Only last year she came
from boarding school, when she called to care for her
uncle during a brief illness. She decided against returning
to school, however, when she realized that he needed
someone to care for him continuously during the strenu-
ous months he spent in laboratory work. Jf
Following lunch, the Professor and his niece escorted
Martin to the laboratory to show him how far he had
progressed on the mechanical contrivance upon which he
labored.
Had it been an ordinary mechanical instrument, Mar-
tin would have found it difficult to divide his interest be-
tween the Professor’s talk and Theresa’s charm. His
love of science predominated, however, and he listened
attentively to the explanation of research on one of the
weirdest and most complicated things he had ever seen.
“For want of a better name, I refer to it as merely
‘The Machine’,” Professor Holtz began. “But do not
confuse this mechanism with an ordinary piece of ma-
chinery, for it is as- much of an advance over the popular
conception of a machine as the modern-day airplane is
over the primitive wheel.”
“It was while watching the operation of a calculating
machine years ago that a thought struck me which
prompted an attempt to create the complicated contriv-
ance you now see before you. Bui as you see it, and de-
spite the fact that even in its present state it represents a
great advance over any modern-day machine, it is yet in
the embryo stage.
“There is little doubt but that machines represent the
highest type of efficiency. True, some machines are
more efficient than others, and from a standpoint of true
efficiency many machines used in modern industry are
operating at comparatively low averages of efficiency.
Yet, compared with the activity of a human being, it is
impossible to surpass the speed and precision of a good
machine. It can do a job better, cleaner and more rap-
idly than any one person and ofttimes will surpass a
number of persons doing the same job.
“It was the calculating machine, especially, which in-
terested me. For a high type of efficiency, I defy any
man to exceed it! It may be called a mathematical
genius of the highest order. Can you imagine, for in-
stance, the possibilities of a machine capable of working
formulae as easily as the present calculating machine
gives the sum of a long column of figures instantane-
ously? The integrating machine fascinates me — it al-
most has a brain !”
The Professor paused and, after I had voiced my ap-
proval of his beliefs, he continued:
“In all industry there are similar machines — machines
turning out products with precision and speed; with
little more than casual attention from a human operator
— machines that think; machines that work; machines
that talk; machines that move; machines — machines —
machines. Everything that is done by a human being
can be done better and more efficiently by a machine 1
“Many of the machines of today have reached a stage
of perfection which, when compared analogically with a
human being makes us seem puny. Electrical reproduc-
tion of sound is an instance. A man’s voice can, at best,
travel little more than 500 yards, if an attentive ear is
listening. Radio, on the other hand, carries many times
as many miles with but little more energy.
“A man can run an average of seven miles per hour,
and in but a short distance he must halt to rest. A
machine, on the other hand, can make ten times the
speed and at the close of the journey be little the worse
for the energy expended.
AUTOMATON
683
“Human power is weak. The strongest of muscles are
puny compared to the power of a machine. Human
hands are awkward compared with the precision of a
machine. Man is a clumsy creature matched against the
efficiency of mechanical movement! In short, there is
practically no line of work that the machine does not
now, or will not in the future, do better, faster and
cheaper than man alone can do it.
“Picture any great industry of today without the ma-
chine. There could be no great industry without it
Eliminate the machine and an immediate reversion to
primitive hand-power would result over night. Civiliza-
tion would totter. Mechanical contrivances make for
greater efficiency, and efficiency is the keynote of mod-
ern day civilization.”
Martin was held spellbound by the Professor’s talk.
Although his training had been in .the theory and prac-
tice of electrical and mechanical engineering, he had
never quite considered the machines with which he
worked from this angle. Yet, what the Professor had
said was certainly true. But what had all this to do
with the mass of wheels and wires on the table before
him ? The older man would explain.
“I am convinced that with the strides made in the last
twenty years, the time has come when a machine can be
produced which can successfully imitate man in every-
thing he can do, but will surpass him in his abilities — a
combination of machines incorporated into one. It will be
a machine which will walk, talk, hear, see and use a sys-
tem of arms and fingers successfully. It is obvious, it
seems to me, that such an automaton would not only be
a most welcome thing in the complicated life of today,
but would be also the acme of efficiency.
“The machine will go further — it will think ! It will
have the capacity to actually reason. It will operate on
a basis of cause and effect. It can be done ! Such a ma-
chine could make no mistakes. Error would be an un-
known quantity — it can’t make mistakes — it’s a ma-
chine — it operates with machine precision. Give it
energy and oil, and man will be possessed of a tireless,
faithful, reliable servant; ready for any work and
capable of reasoning along any given line by merely
changing cogwheels! Impossible? Nothing is impos-
sible!”
The Professor answered the expression of skepticism
on Martin’s face.
"But, Professor,” Martin broke in, “How can you
hope to combine the intricate delicateness of some ma-
chines with the comparative slovenliness of others. You
surely can’t hope to incorporate the usefulness of a trip-
hammer with the necessary fineness of a machine manu-
facturing instruments of micrometer precision. As to
the reasoning by a machine — I must admit that is quite
beyond my comprehension.”
The Professor smiled and looked toward Theresa.
She returned the smile, nodding her head knowingly.
“Let me show you something — watch this.” The Pro-
fessor turned a switch on the table which was covered
by apparatus. A hum from a motor-generator broke the
conversation. The filaments of vacuum tubes on the
wooden laboratory bench brightened with the turn of a
rheostat. The Professor turned to the machine and or-
dered, “Hammer.”
Immediately an arm from the machine began work-
ing up and down on the floor. “Harder,” the scientist
commanded. The machine worked no faster but the
strokes from the arm against a piece of wood became
stronger with each blow until the command to “stop”
was given and the hammering ceased.
The Professor turned to Martin, but neither said a
word. Martin was too overcome with surprise to utter a
sound, and the Professor awaited the next demonstration
before requesting comment.
Again he turned to the machine. “Pick up that piece
of paper,” he ordered. Operation from the machine was
immediate. A small light began rotating in a semi-arc
on the floor. Although but a faint glow was visible,
Martin recognized it as one of the latest developments
in light-sensitive cells. When the ray struck the paper,
another arm equipped with a tweezer-like arrangement
reached out, picked up the paper, and held it firmly until
the Professor took it from the iron grasp, the arm then
returned to its normal position.
Martin gasped. “Why — why it’s almost human,” he
blurted. “Professor Holtz,” he continued, "you’ve per-
fected the most wonderful machine I’ve ever seen. Al-
low me to congratulate you.”
“No, Martin,” the Professor replied, “it will be some
time yet before congratulations are in order. The ma-
chine is still far from being perfect. That machine must
think — must reason, yes, actually reason before it will
have reached the ideal of my ambitions. And you are to
help me. As I have explained, I am in no position now
to offer you financial reward. Your work must, for the
most part, be for the love and advancement of science.
Upon the successful completion of this instrument, how-
ever, you will be amply cared for financially, you may
rest assured.
“I feel certain that you will accept, that is why I
brought you here ; that is why I showed you this appa-
ratus — the first person besides Theresa and myself to
have ever been within the doors of this laboratory. Will
you remain ?”
The Professor extended his hand. Martin hesitated
a moment, looked at Theresa. Were her eyes pleading
him to say the acquiescent word? Martin hesitated no
longer. His acceptance was written all over his coun-
tenance.
ROFESSOR HOLTZ and Alan Martin were silent
as they gazed meditatively at their handiwork
stretched across the laboratory workbench.
A weird, grotesque monstrous thing, a machine almost
sinister in its complicated appearance was there. The
layman would describe it as possibly a new type diving
suit. Then again, the external appendages would elimi-
nate the possibility of such a conclusion for where arms
should be were mere elongated hook-like contrivances ; a
man’s leg could hardly squeeze into the lower casings, if
this were a diving suit, for they appeared to be little
more than steel stilts; the machine gave the impression
of unusual durability ; its aluminum body surmounted by
a heavy top-casing presented the appearance of being a
veritable suit of armor.
Yet it seemed almost human in appearance. Indeed, a
shadowgraph of the contrivance would actually reveal a
human outline. However, a closer inspection would re-
veal no facial features. A strip of glass entirely sur-
rounding the “forehead” of the machine; an inch wide
rectangular cavity directly beneath the glass strip, and a
round cavity in the center of the head would eliminate
it from being termed “man-like.”
681
AMAZING
The “body” was devoid of any distinguishing char-
acteristics except for a small door on the chest. The
appendages were all hinged with a ball-and-socket joint
system, allowing freedom of movement in practically any
direction.
A technical description would tell of a contrivance
akin to the adding machine, located within the upper part
of the body, but involving a vastly more complicated
mechanism. A small powerful motor located directly
below the machinery was supplied by a storage battery.
A system of levers extending into the appendages con-
trolled the movement of the members and a strip of cop-
per around the center of each stilt-like leg allowed for
easy recharging of the power supply units. The glass
strip in the head provided for “sight,” similar in detail
to television, the transference of the impression received,
actuated the main mechanism within the body. Vacuum
tubes operated in reflex allowed for the transference of
sound waves by the rectangular cavity to become electri-
cal impressions ; and for the operation of a tiny, yet pow-
erful sound transmitter connected with the central facial
cavity. The vacuum tube system, actuating highly sen-
sitive tube relays, in turn brought action from the main
machine.
In short, a mechanical man existed — a mechanism en-
dowed with the ability of locomotion ; capable of hearing
and seeing; an iron monstrosity imitating man in every
way except the olfactory and feeling senses, the necessity
of respiration or excretion, and emotion. In many ways
the automaton promised to exceed man. Surely such a
machine, kept in condition by oil and a mere replacement
of worn parts, was almost immortal ; ordinary deter-
rents to man were of no concern to the machine: the
mechanism was air and water-tight ; protected by a heavy
steel outer shell, and was ultra-powerful in its move-
ments.
But if the purely physical features of the machine-
man would astound the world, that which would take it
by storm was its clear, cold, keen ability to reason — to
think. The machine could never err — it was a machine !
Its reasoning was devoid of emotion and the thoughts
were the cold results of cause and effect. Any impres-
sion the machine might gain through any of its senses
would never be forgotten and the knowledge thus gained
could be called into use at any time. Thus, we find the
automaton possessing the unique faculty of a faultless
memory; a “brain” unhampered by emotion, and the
ability to think unerringly if the premises supplied by
man were true.
Truly the creation of a genius! Machines exist and
have existed which, individually, could do all that this
automaton might do. But to combine the basic prin-
ciples of nearly all known machines within the scope of
a single unit must call for the abilities of a master mind.
No one can begrudge Prof. Holtz the credit for conceiv-
ing such a mechanism, but the working out of the in-
tricate details involving the super-calculating machine
which permitted reason within the automaton, was
strictly the product of Martin’s keen brain.
The three years that Martin spent in the Professor’s
laboratory were devoted exclusively to the problem of
improving the capabilities of the modern-day calculat-
ing machine and, using this as a basis, to produce the
mechanism which now lay secure within the gigantic
body of the automaton.
Prof. Holtz laboriously pulled himself from the low
STORIES
slung Morris chair. With a slow, weary, almost diffi-
cult gait, he walked toward his machine-man. The low
purr of the motor within the machine told his trained
ear that all was operating as expected. He looked over
the seven-foot steel form of his creation. The monster
seemed to be almost a living thing merely asleep as it lay
stretched on the bench . . . motionless . . . quiet . . . cold
. . . efficient.
Martin remained at the far side of the room, his dark
brown eyes almost glassy from a prolonged vacant stare
across the workbench through the window beyond. He
ran long sensitive fingers wearily through his straight
black hair. A calm passed over him. He relaxed . . .
a job well done . . . the joy of a work successfully fin-
ished.
The Professor broke the silence. Martin was suddenly
brought back from his reverie as the savant directed his
words to the automaton :
“You live! You move . . . you hear . . . you speak . . .
you think ! I am your creator ... to me do you owe your
existence.”
Again stillness. Martin smiled. The Professor had
dropped his cloak of austerity. Had he forgotten that it
was only a machine? Wheels . . . levers . . . wire . . .
steel . . . only a machine !
The savant turned and faced Martin. “Help me get
it on its feet,” he ordered. “The machine has received
its initial impression. To me does it owe homage ... it
knows ... it realizes now.” Martin looked quizzically
at the older man. Had the strain of the years of work
affected his mind? He had never seen him quite like
this. “There are no limits, no barriers for the Iron Man
... he is all-powerful and I created him. To me does
it owe its life. A touch of my hand and he is stilled
forever. By my grace he lives !” His speech was a
soliloquy.
Martin did not answer. To him the automaton repre-
sented mejely the proper combination of electro-me-
chanical forces. It was only a machine. Despite the
“intellect” incorporated within the mechanical monster it
possessed no emotions. The younger man reminded the
Professor that the initial impression he gave the machine
would be to no avail, for surely he could expect no
appreciation.
Martin’s words recalled the Professor to the material
world. He suddenly became his gruff old self again.
“Damn appreciation ! Here, swing the machine off the
bench . . . careful now . . . feet on the ground . . . easy
. . . hold him upright.”
The tone of the motor within the automaton changed
to a lower note when the strain was placed upon it. As
the weight of the Iron Man was shifted to its feet, it be-
came suddenly rigid. The gyroscopic balancing unit
came into operation. Martin ceased to support it and
it maintained its equilibrium alone.
The two men slowly backed away. They were en-
tranced with the power it represented ... its cold effi-
ciency ... its sinister appearance.
A clicking could be heard within the mechanism like
the levers of an adding machine in operation. Seconds
passed that seemed hours. Neither man moved or spoke,
eyes riveted on the steel monster which stood before
them.
The small dull lamp-like contrivance behind the glass
of the television moved slowly as if searching for some-
thing; it swept over the floor in ever widening arcs until
AUTOMATON
685
it struck Martin’s shoes. The lamp, though it cast prac-
tically no light or rays, was rising slowly as it “viewed”
the young engineer. Higher. It reached his face, halted
momentarily, and immediately swung back to the floor.
Another degree in the widening arc of search and the
lamp .located the shoes of the Savant. It halted, climbed
higher in a straight line and reached the face of Pro-
fessor Holtz.
The lamp halted its movements. The man remained
calm, expectant, and from out the center cavity of the
machine issued sound!
“You live! You move . . . you hear . . . you speak
. . . you think ! I am your creator ... to me do you owe
your existence!”
Silence. Both men were electrified — stunned with
surprise with this, the first sounds from the completed
whole. Almost eerie in its repetition of the aged man’s
words, the thing seemed apart from the material. Weird
• — grotesque
The clicking continued. The Iron Man swayed. With
an almost convulsive movement, it lifted its right leg and
with a slow deliberate motion stiffly took one step for-
ward. More clicking. The left leg was brought into
place.
The two men stared. True, this was the expected.
Years of research and preliminary tests proved that this
would occur. But the actuality ... it was unreal. The
brain doubted the senses.
Martin broke the stillness with a wild crazy laugh.
“Like babies ! We’re like babies,” he shouted. “We
lead ourselves into believing we have accomplished the
impossible. We become astounded because the Thing
repeats what you have told it. Phonographs have done
the same for years ! It makes a step and we go into an
hysterical ecstacy! How many children’s toys do the
same! You — you have made me as crazy as you are
with your insane ideas. Mechanical men . . . mechani-
cal intellect . . . automatons . . . Helll” And with an-
other wild burst of laughter, he slammed the laboratory
door behind him.
The Professor was alone with the machine. He
dropped his body upon the worn upholstery of the chair.
He was tired — so tired and discouraged. Martin was
right. How was it that he failed to realize the fact be-
fore? He buried his face in his hands. Such weari-
ness ... if only he could cry.
He looked up at the Iron Apparition. A sneer crept
across the features of his face. An insane hate mounted
within him. He arose, fists clenched. Blood filled every
vein of his face. He stepped before the automaton. A
short, cynical laugh. He looked up into the face of the
machine- Man and shook a puny fist before it.
“Do something,” he screamed, “do something, damn
you, do something ! Ten years of my life have I spent in
building you, and now — now you stand and stare — an
overgrown toy, a phonograph. Do something, you ... .”
The aged man clutched at his heart, wheeled, and lay
still on the floor.
CHAPTER II
T WEY were alone — Martin and Theresa. The
pines in the rear of the house intensified the solace
he sought. Theresa’s presence comforted him.
Silent minutes passed. Martin arose from the impro-
vised stone bench. With his right hand he rubbed the
Back of his neck as he slowly paced back and forth in
front of the bench. His thoughts rankled him
“I can’t believe it,” he said, finally. “The Old Man
swears that he fell to the floor when he became uncon-
scious from the stroke. How in the world he came to be
lying on the work bench is more than I can understand.
Yet, the professor insists the machine did it; but that’s
ridiculous. Pie says it’s appreciation — appreciation, ha!
—-ridiculous! Still, how else could it have happened?”
He was thinking aloud. It was his habit. He found
he could reason more clearly when he did that. For the
/noment he even forgot the presence of Theresa. He
continued :
“And the bench was cleaned off before the prostrate
form of the old man was laid upon it. Even if things
were rather rudely swept to the floor, still the bench was
clear of tools to accommodate the professor’s body.
Odd. Surely the doctor couldn’t do it himself — no one
else was in the laboratory— except the machine — the au-
tomaton” —
Theresa interrupted.
“Uncle insists the machine did it. How else could it
have happened? I’m certain the machine will prove to
be a vastly more efficient product than you are willing
to admit. You say yourself that when you returned to
the laboratory you found Uncle on the floor and the ma-
chine was on the opposite side of the room. It didn’t
move while Uncle was conscious and you saw for your-
self that the thing is capable of locomotion without ex-
ternal aid.”
The girl had summed up the situation exactly. Mar-
tin, practical engineer that he was, found difficulty in be-
ing moved by a possible romantic viewpoint that Theresa
held. She, he felt, was unwilling to forsake the senti-
ment she had built on the hopes of her guardian. On
the other hand, he thought, had he not put in the best of
his abilities in the successful completion of the automa-
ton. Why then should he belittle its possibilities?
Hadn’t he been thoroughly convinced of its capabilities
during the years he had spent in its development?
He returned to his seat next to Theresa and took her
hand.
“What would you think of me as a failure,” he asked.
Then, without waiting for reply, he continued, “I’ve
built hopes on the Iron Man. I’m not discouraged if the
machine itself is not a success. It’s you, Theresa, dear.
Together we had peered into the future and saw only
happiness but now, well, I must start again. I surely
can’t ask you to share my poverty ”
She looked in his eyes— tear-dimmed.
“Please, Alan — please,” she begged. “Can so small a
thing as a material success or failure stand between us?
You know I love you, and nothing — never, never, can
anything come between you and me. I’m glad you’re
through working on the machine. I don’t care if it’s
successful or not — Alan dear, I love you. That is all
that matters.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her. “And I
love you,” he murmured. “I’ve given my best for the
machine, but no matter — the world lies before us and to-
gether — together we shall build new ideals — new hopes.”
She snuggled closer. “I’ll help — I ask the world for
nothing but you,” she whispered.
A far-away steeple bell tolled midnight. Both stirred
from their reveries by the hour, walked toward the
house.
686
AMAZING STORIES
"Let's see how Uncle feels,” Theresa suggested.
Together the pair made their way to the Professor’s
room where he lay suffering the effects of the attack.
Paralyzed from hips to feet, he turned toward the
couple with difficulty.
“Have you been to the laboratory?” the savant ques-
tioned.
They replied in the negative. Martin had not dis-
cussed his sentiments toward the automaton with the
Professor since his stroke, fearing the consequences of
his becoming excited.
“Go down and see if things are all right,” he ordered.
He hesitated a moment, then: “Wait. I want the Iron
Man in this room with me,” he added.
Martin was about to protest the foolishness of bring-
ing the machine to him, but a warning signal came from
Theresa, and with a slow negative nod of his head, in-
dicating that he couldn’t understand such a request, he
left the room.
He switched on the light of the laboratory room from
the outside, unlocked the door, and entered. The ma-
chine stood in the corner of the room facing the young
man, who halted at the doorway, a cynical smile on his
face. The small, glowless lamp flashed on him immedi-
ately.
“Do something, can’t you, do something — you stand
and stare — do something.”
Martin stiffened. It was the machine. It was the
automaton talking! Where did he get those words?
How apropos they were. They might well be directed
to him, from the machine’s standpoint. Singular, to say
the least — weird — well, possibly it had heard the words
somewhere or sometime during the process of its being
cast — just a phonograph repeating words — a coincidence.
He walked up to the machine and ordered, “Walk.” A
second elapsed during which clicking could be heard to
emanate from the mechanism, and the automaton began
to walk, in a straight line.
The machine was guided by ordering, “Walk left,” or
“Walk right,” until it reached the staircase. A com-
mand to “Step up” and the process was repeated until
the end of the stairs was reached and the order to
“Stop,” followed by “Walk,” was given and, with these
initial impressions of movement given, the Iron Man fol-
lowed Martin into the Professor’s bedroom.
“Here it is,” the young scientist announced. The Pro-
fessor gazed meditatively at his creation.
“Did you have any trouble getting the machine up
here ?” he questioned.
Martin replied in the negative. “But,” he continued,
“it might be of interest to you to know that your Iron
Man severely chided me for a slight inactivity on my
part,” this sarcastically, through a roguish smile.
The aged savant became all attention. He half raised
himself in bed, but was quickly and quietly restored to
his pillows by Theresa and Martin, who warned him
against any strenuous activity. “Explain, explain,” he
insisted.
“What did it do — what did it say?”
Martin continued to treat the incident of the machine’s
rebuke lightly as he related the greeting he received from
the automaton when he opened the laboratory door. “I
suppose it picked up the words or phrases during the
period of construction, when the apparatus was suffi-
ciently developed to accept impressions, but to credit the
machine with the ability to select words which might be
termed appropriate to the occasion is something which
I cannot bring myself to believe; merely a coincidence,”
Martin concluded.
But Martin didn’t speak the truth. The thing was si
weird— that words almost expressive in tone, that -he
tiny portion of his brain which seemed to cling to the
belief that the automaton would be the success he had
hoped for, spread. He could advance no convincing
argument, even to himself, that the censure he had re-
ceived at the hands of the machine was no more than
coincidence. He looked at the machine now with some-
thing akin to repulsion. A fear that the thing might be-
come a Frankenstein monster obsessed him for a mo-
ment. He knew of its mechanical composition — its
strong points — its weaknesses — its stupendous possibili-
ties — probabilities ! Fie would have liked to smash it on
the spot. Already it had been the cause of the Profes-
sor’s disability. Perhaps it was a warning. Maybe a
greater Being had made known his disapproval of a new
creation.
Martin laughed inwardly as these thoughts flashed
through his mind. Nonsense. He, an engineer, allow-
ing his brain to wander into such realms of fantasy!
Why, it bordered on the superstitious ! He tried to dis-
miss the thoughts, but the idea that the machine was
something more than mere machinery now became
dominant.
The Professor lay quiet, thinking. Those words.
Where had he heard them before? He never recalled
having occasion to use the phrases related to him and the
machine required an initial impression of the words in
order to have control of them — yet, he recalled having
heard the very phrases — somewhere — sometime
He remembered. It was the night he was stricken.
The rage. The fit of violence. The overwhelming dis-
appointment. It was all clear now. The machine could
reason — it had used only the words necessary to con-
vey its meaning. If it only repeated words parrotlike,
why hadn’t it reiterated his entire speech?
Martin listened. He nodded his head in an acquies-
cence which indicated but a half-belief.
“I'm inclined to agree with Uncle,” Theresa opined.
“Although I do not profess to be as learned in scientific
matters as either of you. It seems that all indications
point to the fact that the Automaton can actually think.
I wonder if it can ”
The girl walked over to where the machine stood.
Facing it she asked, simply, “Can you reason?” Her
action came as a surprise to the two men in the room,
yet what more conclusive proof could there be than by
putting the question directly up to the machine? They
watched the procedure.
The ever-shifting lamp in the Automaton’s forehead
singled out the girl. Silence for an interminable second.
The quiet clicking of levers within the body of the ma-
chine and then, clearly and with precision :
“You live! You move — you hear — you speak — you
think !” — a pause and, to the astonishment of all, the ma-
chine continued : “I’m inclined to agree with Uncle ”
The trio were awestruck. Despite the practical na-
tures of the men and the girl, something of the super-
natural seemed to creep into the very air of the room. It
was uncanny.
The Professor broke the stillness which ensued.
“Your question is apparently answered, Theresa."
Then, addressing Martin, he continued, “There is little
AUTOMATON
687
room for skepticism now, eh?” The old man was elated.
His mind returned to the scientific side of the proposi-
tion and he had again become strictly practical. “Would
you say that a new-born babe is stupid because it is un-
able to converse intelligently? Of course not. Then
why censure the Automaton because of its inability to
express the ‘thoughts’ which it might have? It needs
education. It requires the teaching of words and the
proper use of word combinations in order to speak com-
prehensibly.”
He hesitated a moment and then declared : “Theresa,
tomorrow you shall have a pupil. It shall be your duty
to instruct the Automaton in the use of words. Give it
a vocabulary. Teach it to use words. Teach it to read.
Teach it to write.”
The girl smiled.
“Don’t laugh,” he cautioned. “The Automaton is
capable — it can do anything man can do — better, more
rapidly and more efficiently. It will learn quickly be-
cause it is a machine. It needs but one impression and
it never forgets. In one month its course should be com-
pleted, including elementary mathematics and chemistry.
It will learn as fast as you can teach.
And teach she did. Nearly five hours were spent each
day in imparting knowledge to the steel monster and
after ten days it had mastered the art of reading to such
perfection that an entire page of printed matter could
be absorbed at almost a glance from the vision-lamp.
Consequently, its powers of covering thousands of book
pages in the course of one day was nothing unusual. Its
marvelously constructed appendages allowed the same
ease of handling as do the human hands and when
Theresa was not present to aid in the machine’s instruc-
tion, it would continue its pursuit of knowledge alone.
Time was an unknown element. It would read day and
night continuously. It was a machine. It never became
tired. A drop of oil now and then; an occasional re-
charging of batteries, a few minor mechanical adjust-
ments and the Automaton continued its educational ac-
tivities with a ceaseless abandon.
Martin and the Professor watched the progress of the
machine from a strictly scientific standpoint. There was
no longer room for doubt concerning the success of the
machine. Even if its progress should be suddenly halted
at its present stage, the thing would be an outstanding
success. The two men often discussed the machine tech-
nically, but now, for the first time, the trend of discus-
sion was turning to the practical phases.
“There is little more to be done to the Automaton,”
Martin told the older man, as he sat next to his bed.
Professor Ploltz was propped high in his pillows, his
former rugged complexion and virulent iron gray Van-
dyke, replaced by sallowness and an unkempt beard, and
a sudden relaxation after years of mental and physical
strain devoted to the development of the machine.
“No,” he replied, “there is little more to be done
except along lines of marketing the discovery. You
know that funds, of late, have been running quite low
and it seems that the world should be given the benefit,
now, of our years of labor. Financially, I do not think
that oitr work will have been in vain.”
Martin thought for a moment and then, “The Interna-
tional Electric Corporation wrote us about a year ago,
you remember, after the newspapers had blazed full-page
Sunday feature stories regarding the ‘Automatic Man,’
as they termed it. They indicated a keen interest at the
time and I am sure that they will lend an attentive ear
and make a financially worthwhile proposition to control
the patents.”
The Professor nodded approval and suggested that
the young engineer go to New York the following day to
discuss with the company the possibilities of marketing
the development.
Martin was in New York nearly a week. In the
meantime, some startling revelations were being made at
home concerning the Automaton. Its education was be-
ing continued under the tutelage of Theresa, but the ma-
chine had now reached so high a stage of learning that
the girl could lend little more information to its already
great store of knowledge. Initial impressions had been
received along practically every line of endeavor and
with its remarkable capacity for absorbing matter on the
printed page, there was little that the machine did not
know.
It must be understood that the machine’s ability to un-
derstand the meanings of words was a direct result of
association. Just as, for instance, the human mind com-
prehends almost instantaneously that two plus two equals
four, so did the Automaton operate. The utterance of
a word carried distinct vibrations possessed of individual
characteristics which actuated sensitive tube relays and,
these in turn, operated the mechanical levers of the ma-
chine that resulted in action.
The ability to “reason” was a similar action. How-
ever, instead of requiring an external stimulus to actu-
ate the mechanical features of the Iron Man, the im-
pressions already received by the machine were recorded
and recalled whenever an external stimulus operated.
The Automaton, being devoid of emotion, understood
nothing of “life” or “death” as the human mind would
comprehend the subject. Existence itself held little
meaning for the machine other than from a viewpoint of
efficiency. It recognized no superior power but did
acknowledge the fact that it was through the efforts of
Professor Holtz and Alan Martin that he was "alive.”
Further tests with the machine, when it had reached a
point of training sufficient to allow it to make known
its reactions, indicated that Martin was correct in his
hypothesis that such fundamental emotions as apprecia-
tion, love, hate, jealousy, sympathy, and the like were
absolute unknown quantities.
As a machine, however, it did possess one emotional
reaction — if emotional we may term it in this case —
ambition, as interpreted by its almost fanatical desire to
increase its own efficiency. It held no desire to become
great or powerful, nor did it show any tendency toward
attaining heights along any particular line of endeavor.
Its own increasing efficiency was its sole ambition, to be
able to do better that which had been done before. It
almost seemed as if it possessed a sporting passion to
prove its abilities as superior to man’s, although as yet it
had offered nothing more than to prove itself a willing
servant, and faultless in accomplishing the orders given
to it by either the Professor or Theresa. Martin paid
little heed to the machine since its completion, being
more interested for the moment in his efforts to suc-
cessfully attain financial independence to carry further
the scientific ideas he desired to work on — and to estab-
lish a home for Theresa and himself.
The Automaton made its headquarters in the savant’s
room. Its education had progressed sufficiently far to
make it almost a companion for the bed-ridden man.
688
AMAZING STORIES
For hours at a time, the Professor would speak to the
machine and study its reactions from the answers he
received. Always the reply from the machine would be
brief, concise and correct. Never did it vouchsafe a
thought unless an external stimulus, a verbal question
for instance, caused the necessary reflex. The machine
itself, in reply to questioning on the subject, voiced the
belief that in time its reflexes would become competent
enough to allow it to make known its thoughts without
the necessary question to afford the initial reaction.
After all, it was little more than half a month old and it
had not as yet become thoroughly acquainted with its
own capacities.
It was the following morning that the Professor re-
ceived a telephone call from Martin apprizing him of the
fact that the patent rights had been sold and that they
had received a more than substantial sum for their pat-
ents and a liberal royalty on all Automatons manufac-
tured. Plans were being made to launch immediate
manufacture of the machines and promote their distri-
bution by the millions.
Every factory, every home, every place that now util-
ized man power might seriously consider the feasibility
of utilizing the Automaton instead. It was revolution-
ary. The world hailed the advent of the Machine.
Capitalists saw in the Automaton the solution to the
question of increasing production at a reduced cost.
Those who worked with their brain found in the ma-
chine a valuable one upon which they could depend for
rapid, errorless solutions to their problems. Even the
housewife looked upon the Iron Man as a savior from
the tedium of domestic tribulation, seeing a decided aid
in her household duties.
CHAPTER III
T HUS, in a period that seemed almost overnight,
the world advanced into the Age of the Machine.
Science had lifted struggling Humanity from the
tedium of ceaseless toil to a state of comparative ease
and comfort. Automatons supplanted men in every
walk of life and work. One man, directing the activities
of a group of Automatons, created a product more rap-
idly and more uniform, at a lower cost and often of a
higher quality, than had been made previously with a
number of men operating inferior machines or working
with their hands.
The names of Professor Karl Holtz and Alan Martin
became household words. They had come to be regarded
the world over as the saviors of mankind. Although but
a year had passed since the Automaton had been offered
for public use, they had already been set to work at hun-
dreds of different occupations. The Machines had
proven themselves. “Mentally,” if it be permitted to so
refer to the Automaton’s capacity for reasoning, the
Machines were advancing with inestimable rapidity.
Building continuously on that knowledge which they
stored and never forgot, the majority of the Iron Men
had already far surpassed the capacities of the greater
portion of Humanity. This was especially true among
the group of Machines whose work brought them into a
scientific field. They were enabled to diversify their
knowledge, yet keep it along lines which tended to fur-
ther their own power. In every commercial laboratory
Automatons were present to aid Human engineers in
solving mathematical or scientific problems which would
arise. Indeed, many scientific advancements would have
still been a dream of the future, but for the necessary
capacity the machines provided for rapid and errorless
calculation of formulas; laying the foundations for new
developments; recording the actions of sensitive instru-
ments; aiding in the production of actual machinery;
in short, the Automaton had made possible the advent
of a new era, a faster, more efficient and easier existence
for all mankind.
But little more time had elapsed before man began to
depend more and more upon the Automaton to supply
him with his daily bread. An obvious economic situation
resulted, which for a time threatened to become serious,
but governmental regulation took a hand and aided in re-
establishing the order of things to meet the sudden
change in conditions, and for a time, the majority were
again satisfied with the substitute workmen.
Alan Martin continued to remain at the Holtz home-
stead. Something more than the mere development of a
machine held his interest. For the past year he had been
taking a long needed rest and as he sat beneath the over-
shadowing pines in a garden rocking-chair on that late
September afternoon, meditatively drawing on his
straight, stubby pipe, he paused for a moment to look
upon Theresa who sat in the grass at his feet — the girl
who had aided him so in perfecting his plans; the one
thing in all the world who seemed to bring Heaven and
Earth together for him.
She looked up and smiled. “What were you thinking
about, Alan dear?” she questioned, “You've been so
quiet 1”
He was supremely happy. Fie possessed everything
his heart desired; the respect of the world, financial in-
dependence and — the love of the girl he loved.
“Nothing in particular, and everything in general,” he
replied. “I was thinking, though, how thankful I should
be for having you, sweetheart.” He aided her to her
feet and she seated herself on the spacious arm of the
chair in which he was seated. Fie held her hand.
“Theresa, I love you — I love you so. Why can’t we be
married soon? I need only you to make my happiness
complete. Tell me — when shall it be?”
“It shall be soon — very soon, my lading.” She put
her head close to his, both peering with unseeing eyes
through the trees, and she murmured, “We’ll be so
happy together.” A momentary silence. She arose.
“Uncle, as you know, is preparing to undergo an
operation next week, in an effort to restore activity to his
paralyzed legs. He feels sure that the outcome will be
successful, and you say that you also are of the same
opinion. Oh, I pray that everything will turn out all
right!” Theresa took Alan’s hands and he stood up.
“Alan dear,” she whispered, “we’ll settle the date right
after Uncle’s operation.”
He drew her close to him and kissed her.
A LIGHT breeze swayed the pines outside of the
house. A solitary light remained in the room of
Professor Holtz, dimmed beneath the shade of a lamp.
The Automaton stood at his bedside. Throughout the
day and night it stayed as his constant companion, ex-
cept for the comparatively brief daily period that it was
in the custody of Theresa for incidental training. Being
the first machine of its kind made, it had considerably
more time for obtaining impressions than any of the
Automatons manufactured later and was, consequently,
AUTOMATON
689
a more highly trained product. The Professor held
regular conversations with the machine, the latter speak-
ing always in its clear, cold, emotionless tone and always
the result of an impression received somewhere at some-
time during its existence, through either one of two of its
senses, sight and hearing.
Professor Holtz and the Iron Man were alone. The
aged man lying propped up with pillows in his bed was
thinking. He must submit to the surgeon’s knife in a
few days — the outcome of the operation, he knew, had
an even chance of being unsuccessful — a morbid trend of
thought pointed out the possibility of dire consequences :
he might die — worse, he might survive and be more
helpless than at present as a result of the operation — a
veritable living death. But hope overshadowed all pos-
sibilities. The thought of the chance, however slight,
that he would regain the use of his legs, created in him
a nervous suspense of anticipation.
To sleep was impossible. His mind refused to give
way to the subconscious. There was too much to think
about — Theresa — and Martin — the Automaton — a world
struggling to readjust itself to the advent of a situation
— the machines
He gazed at the Automaton standing at the foot of his
bed. The low hum of the motor within the metallic body
indicated to his trained ear that the internal machinery
was operating perfectly — the vision-ray was focused di-
rectly upon the man. A preliminary click of one of the
internal levers denoted to the professor that the Machine
was preparing to speak.
“You are preparing to undergo an operation?” it ques-
tioned in a matter-of-fact voice, minus a questioning in-
tonation.
The professor replied in the affirmative.
“I understand that through surgery it may be pos-
sible to restore your ability to walk. I am under the im-
pression that such a move may endanger your existence.
I cannot realize that the knife will allow you to re-estab-
lish the use of the broken nervous system in the lower
part of your body. To the best of my ability in calcu-
lating the condition, it appears that only by a powerful
effort or shock can the deadened nerve endings be
brought to life.”
The machine paused in its rather lengthy statement.
“Surgeons can restore activity to the paralyzed nerves
— sometimes,” the Professor replied. “To exist in my
present hopeless condition is burdensome. I have de-
cided to chance the operation.”
The discourse took place quietly, the Professor feeling
no surprise over the questioning of the machine, for
such display of intellectual eloquence had become com-
monplace with the passing of a year’s training. Silence
followed during which only a low, continuous clicking
within the machine, could be heard. Then it spoke, its
words, however, so amazing, that the bed-ridden man
gasped as he listened.
“I will cure you,” the machine began. “I have deter-
mined that it is not necessary for you to submit to sur-
gery. You can be as able as you ever were within a
short time, if you are willing to follow directions.
Surely, you have nothing to lose and all to gain by be-
coming the subject of my experiment. I have calculated
the results theoretically and success is assured. Are you
willing to receive the practical treatment?”
The Professor was astounded. He had never under-
estimated the abilities of these thinking machines of his
creation, but he had never dared to even hope that it
could reason sufficiently deeply to consider the ills of the
human body — the multiplicity of ailments; the delicacy
of the organic structure 1 How could a machine, reason-
ing only along lines of cause and effect, solve so intri-
cate a problem as the restoration of paralyzed nerves — a
problem presenting the possibility of a number of causes
with but a single effect. The savant pondered — his
amazement giving way to the experimental desire which
burned within him. Maybe the Machine could produce
a cure. At any rate, he thought, the experiment would
be worthwhile. If the treatment indicated any radical
step, which to His mind would prove fatal, he would re-
fuse to continue it.
He looked up at the machine, a paternal esteem sway-
ing the crippled frame of his body. It was his Machine !
A super-machine 1 His creation 1 It could do things no
human being could do. If he lacked confidence in his
own creation, how could he ask that confidence of the
world? The red vision-ray continued to point at the
man.
“I am willing,” he replied. “Make what preparations
you deem necessary and I will submit to your treatment.
When will you start?”
“The treatment will be completed by morning.” the
machine returned. “Give me the key to your chemical
laboratory.”
The key was produced. Without further question it
noiselessly, due to sponge-rubber pads beneath its feet,
left the room. A full hour elapsed while the man gave
full rein to his thoughts. Never in the history of man
did a machine play the part of a physician, and the nov-
elty and humorous aspect of the situation was duly ap-
preciated by the Professor.
The door noiselessly opened and the Automaton
stalked into the room, one hand holding a small graduate
half-filled with a dark-colored liquid ; in the other was
a long piece of wire and a high-frequency coil. It
walked directly to the bed and held out the graduate,
ordering :
“Drink this.”
The man hesitated. This was carrying an experiment
too far. He would refuse to swallow the contents of the
graduate until he was told what it contained. The ma-
chine, however, refused to divulge its secret and again
ordered, “Drink this.” A flat refusal was the final reply.
The machine carefully set the glass container on a
small table adjoining the bed. The red glow from the
vision-ray seemed to deepen as the Automaton took a
step forward and with a vice-like grip held the aged
man’s both hands behind him. The remaining append-
age of the machine picked up the graduate, and, with the
same cold, stern, emotionless tone, repeated: “Drink
this.”
Sheer terror gripped the old man. He could cry out
for aid, but Martin and Theresa might cause his beloved
machine to be removed if they found it attempting him
bodily harm. No, he would fight the metal giant off.
He fought ; he struggled ; he reasoned ; he pleaded. But
to no avail. The machine was determined and was
slowly forcing the glass to his lips. He must call for
help! Already the glass touched his mouth! Acrid
odors assailed his nostrils ! He opened his mouth to cry
for help and in an instant the machine released the man’s
hands, forced two metal fingers between his teeth wedg-
ing his mouth open, poured the liquid into his meuth and
690
AMAZING STORIES
relentlessly clamped it shut. The Professor swallowed
the ill-tasting stuff and ceased his struggles. The Ma-
chine returned to its post at the foot of the bed.
“Maybe you’ve poisoned me — I who created you
should not suffer so at your hands ! Martin is right, a
machine cannot be capable of appreciation ”
“You were not given poison. The treatment will be
finished soon. Will you submit willingly to the conclud-
ing action?” The Machine offered no apology for its
rough handling of the crippled man, nor did it seem
daunted or touched by any pricking of a mechanical “con-
science.” It reasoned along a single line of thought
which demanded bringing the experiment to a conclu-
sion.
Submit to the remainder of the treatment? Well, why
not? Beyond a feeling of warmth in his stomach, the
chemical which was forced upon him seemed to have
caused no dire results. Pie had gone this far, he might
as well complete it. The Professor was thinking. There
was no telling or anticipating what action the Automaton
might take if he refused. Should he cry out for help,
Theresa, and especially Martin, who lacked any senti-
mental interest in the Machine, would insist that the con-
trivance be removed from his immediate presence, fear-
ing that it might do him bodily harm, and on the other
hand, the Machine may continue to force its will upon
him, if he attempted to repulse its attentions.
“I will follow your directions in the treatment,” the
savant advised finally. “Let us start immediately.”
The Machine advanced toward the man. Plugging
one end of the wire it had brought from the laboratory
into a lamp socket, he connected the remaining terminals
with the primary winding of the high frequency trans-
former. The terminals of the secondary coil made con-
tact with the right and left sides of the man’s abdomen,
the electrodes being held in place with adhesive tape.
The scientist suddenly realized what the Machine was
doing. But he did not remonstrate, having developed a
rather forced confidence in the Automaton’s ability, re-
gardless of any calamitous possibilities, a feeling akin
almost to a fatalistic resignation.
“Unconsciously you may cry out or struggle when
this treatment begins. That, I am sure, you do not wish
to do, as it may eliminate forever the hope of a cure, if
Martin or Theresa should respond to your call. I will
seal your lips with adhesive tape and bind your hands.”
Without further ado, the Machine accompanied action
to words and a strip of tape crossed his closed lips while
another bound his wrists together behind him.
The Automaton placed its appendage on the socket,
preparatory to applying the current. “Feel no alarm.
The treatment is severe, but the results, I am certain,
will more than repay you for any suffering that you may
temporarily endure.”
A sudden realization that he had thrown himself en-
tirely upon the mercy of a machine — an emotionless ma-
chine — caused the Professor to become panic-stricken.
He strove to undo the bonds which made him helpless,
but to no avail. It was merely a matter of a few seconds
now and his fate would lie in the hands of a greater
being. The switch was turned.
A convulsive leap of the Professor’s body told of the
current surging through it, but consciousness remained.
The man tried to cry out, but the tape held firm his lips ;
his hands, tied behind him, tried to claw away in an in-
stinctive manner the electrodes which were causing the
anguish. He became conscious of heat — a fiery heat.
He was burning inside. His abdomen felt like a mass
of flames. God 1 It was killing him ! He was sinking — ■
sinking. How long would that current remain on? It
seemed hours. Ah ! The heat was diminishing. It was
almost cool now. How quiet everything became. Calm.
Peace.
His mind seemed rational, yet it seemed apart from
himself. Had he been electrocuted? Had he died?
Was this experience an after-life? A feeling of con-
tentment swept over him. He felt nothing. Just a mind
in space soaring, soaring, and then unconsciousness.
T HE sun shone brightly through the window of the
room in which Professor Holtz lay sleeping. Mar-
tin and Theresa were seated alongside of the bed. They
commented that it was unusual that the savant should be
sleeping so late, but he appeared so tranquil in his heavy
slumber that they hesitated to disturb him. The Auto-
maton stood in its regular place in the corner, and the
room showed no signs of anything unusual having oc-
curred during the night.
The aged man stirred. He had awakened, but his eyes
were not yet fully opened. He felt himself, pinched his
arms, cautiously rubbed his hand on the lower sheet.
He was alive! He had been dreaming. What a hor-
rible dream ! He opened his eyes.
“You slept rather soundly, Professor,” Martin greeted
"him.
“Slept? Oh, yes, I slept fairly well last night. What
time is it?” The Professor found a little difficulty in
gathering his thoughts.
“Eleven o'clock,” Theresa replied.
The savant’s thoughts reverted to the night. Was that
awful experience a dream? It seemed so real and yet
its very realness seemed hazy and faint as if the action
had taken place in an incarnation. It seemed as if his-
tory of some past life that he had lived had been repeat-
ing itself.
Martin proceeded to help the Professor get himself
into a sitting position in the bed and Theresa aided in
rearranging the bed clothing. Although, since the de-
velopment of the Automaton, financial considerations
had become secondary, and automaton servants were in
use throughout the house, Theresa and Martin took it
upon themselves to personally care for the comforts of
the savant.
The Professor was unusually silent. He was trying
to connect up the happenings of the night before. Was
the memory of the Machine’s activities a reality or
merely a dream? It seemed so real, and yet . . .
Martin noticed that the man was acting peculiarly,
albeit he seemed perfectly rational. He turned to the
Automaton ordering, “Bring the Professor a glass of
water.”
The Machine responded immediately and soon re-
turned, handing the tumbler of liquid to the bed-ridden
man. Contrary, to its ordinary practice, however, it
failed to return to its customary position in the corner
of the room and remained close to the bed.
Suddenly the machine bent forward, grasped the un-
derside of the bed, and with a heave turned the heavy
bed on its side, precipitating the incapable man upon the
floor.
Martin and Theresa gasped as they saw the action of
the Machine, too astounded to move or to make an effort
AUTOMATON
691
to halt its seemingly maniacal prank. It all happened so
suddenly that even the invalid did not realize what had
occurred until he felt the bed upsetting. With a scream,
Theresa leaped to the aid of her uncle with Martin
close behind her. But here again the Automaton did the
unexpected. With an unusual alacrity, the Iron Man
reached out its powerful appendages and held both Mar-
tin and the girl in vice-like grips close against its metal
body. The pair kicked and beat at the machine, but to
no avail. It took little cognizance of their comparatively
puny efforts to escape from its clutches.
Meanwhile the old man lay on the floor calling for aid.
He slowly turned to ascertain why help was not forth-
coming, when he saw the helpless condition of his two
would-be benefactors. A sudden rage possessed him.
The Machine had turned against him ... it had become a
malevolent diabolical mechanism! With a convulsive
effort, he pulled his racked frame to the opposite side of
the bed where the Automaton held the man and girl in its
grasp. He called out in vain for the release of the pair.
The Machine stood resolute, becoming little more than
an ordinary iron vise, incapable of hearing or reasoning.
With threats of dire consequences unless the two were
released immediately, the Professor grasped a small light
table by one leg and, unmindful of his crippled condition,
proceeded to pull himself upon his feet with the aid of
his other hand, his entire consciousness bent only on
wrecking the creation that had turned against him.
The savant tottered as he finally allowed the weight
of his body to rest upon his once-paralyzed legs. Ther-
esa and Martin ceased their struggles as they watched
with bated breaths the efforts of the bed-ridden man.
A miracle had been performed ! The muscular actions
of his legs were again responding to the dictates of his
brain 1
The Professor, however, had not yet taken notice of
the fact that he stood upon his paralyzed legs. Only one
desire motivated his being: to destroy the Iron monster.
He placed one foot forward, and with a gigantic effort
pulled the other foot after him, taking a step nearer the
Machine. Crying out all the while to unhand the help-
less pair, the Professor raised the tiny table preparatory
to striking at the main artery of the Automaton — the
electric relays located within the iron head — when the
Machine released the pair and stepped backward.
Theresa and Martin remained immobile — afraid to
move lest they interrupt the miraculous act which
brought life to the aged man’s limbs. With table still up-
raised, a sudden realization came upon the Professor.
He was standing erect. He was upright, standing on
his own legs without aid! He could feel the carpeted
floor on the soles of his feet 1
In a flash the proceedings of the night returned to
his mind. It wasn’t a dream! It was stark reality.
Real 1 The Machine had cured him, he saw it all now.
It was only this convulsive action that could create the
necessary confidence within himself to attempt to regain
the use of his legs.
He dropped the table from his upraised hand and,
braced against the bed, with legs apart, he stretched his
arms Heavenward and with face upturned gave impas-
sioned and impulsive thanks for the cure brought
through the Machine. “Behold! Oh, God,” he cried,
“the miracle thou hast wrought ! How tiny is the brain
of man to compare with Thy wonders.” He became
silent, then: “Hear ye: from this time and to the end of
my days, I pledge my life to the furtherance and pro-
tection of the Automaton through which I have again
become as other men. I swear this !” The old man sank
in a heap to the floor, exhausted by this initial effort.
CHAPTER IV
T HE world soon learned of the part that the Ma-
chine played in the restoration of Professor Holtz.
The newspapers and broadcasting stations placed
the abilities of the Automatons on a new plane in public
estimation. Confidence in the reasoning capacities of the
Iron Men took on a sudden increase. Automatons here-
tofore doing only manual labor were placed under proper
tutelage, and knowledge along specialized lines was
given them. Interviews with the Professor and Martin,
as well as with Theresa, remained “page one copy” for
every newspaper for more than a week. The marvel
performed by the genius of the Automaton gave birth to
sudden realization to the layman that the value of the
Machines lay not only in their strength and dependability
in occupations calling for manual labor, but that for
sheer, cold calculation they could exceed the abilities of
the human mind.
Competition became keen throughout the world for
the possession of Machines highly equipped mentally.
The value of a machine lay in its experience impres-
sions — the amount of knowledge it had received and was
capable of calling into use.
The Automaton originally created by the Professor
and Martin, despite its intellectual display, could easily
be matched by thousands of Machines throughout the
world. Some, along specialized lines, could exceed it by
far in mental calculation.
In the Professor’s own home, however, the Automa-
ton had become almost an idol. True, the Automaton
was incapable of sentiment or emotional reaction, but
the human element was certain to enter into its existence.
Only Martin, cool, level-headed young scientist that he
was, failed to give any evidence of appreciation to the
Machine for what it had done for the aged savant. He
understood. To be swept away in an emotional trance,
by the cause-and-effect product of an iron machine,
seemed to him to be ridiculous. The action of the ma-
chine was to be expected. Its very insensibility to emo-
tions made it the efficient machine that it was, he told
newspaper reporters seeking an interview. “I am, as
well as every human being, the master of the Automa-
tons. To set them up as a God-sent miracle is a direct
insinuation that the machine is superior to the human
mind. Never forget,” he said, “it was the human mind
that created these machines, and the human mind can, at
any time, terminate their activities. To do so, however,
would be foolish. The detail that clutters up the brain
of man can be eliminated with the use of the machine.
With a definite goal in view, the petty sidelines of the
path leading to the ultimate result can now be done
away with. The machines are built and designed to care
for this and are capable of little else.”
A torrent of adverse criticism and abuse showered
down upon Martin when his interview was published.
Claims that the Automaton had stolen his place in the
limelight and embittered him against the machines could
be heard from every side. Newspaper editorials inter-
preted his interview as a feeling of petty jealousy enter-
ing into his consideration of the machines. Even within
692
AMAZING STORIES
the circles of his club he was referred to as being any-
thing from a reactionary to a radical. Despite the fact
that it was his mind that made the machines a possibility,
public sentiment waved this to one side and saw now
only an effort on his part to discredit the action and
capabilities of the Automatons.
But it was the coldness within the home of the Pro-
fessor that caysed him the greatest concern. The old
cordiality seemed to have vanished. A certain stiffness
of attitude replaced the free and careless air of Prof.
Holtz toward him. Nor did Theresa display the affec-
tion of other days. He seemed to sense a forced effort
on her part to maintain the appearance of love for him.
Truly, if ever the monster created by Frankenstein ex-
isted, he now saw in the Automaton an innate reproduc-
tion of that monster of old.
For the past year, the original machine had been re-
ceiving its “education” at the hands of Theresa. Con-
tinuously reading to it, talking to it, answering its ques-
tions, increasing its vocabulary, its store of knowledge
had now become stupendous 1
The business of protecting the patent interests in the
Automatons kept Martin traveling considerably. Much
of his time was spent in New York and Chicago and, as
a consequence, he was able to give less and less of his
time to Theresa. Her interest in the Machine, however,
kept her occupied and she realized the necessity of his
being away from home so much.
Then again, the Machines required considerable care.
The replacement of a part frequently demanded the ser-
vices of an expert, and, in the more complicated mechan-
isms, even Martin was called upon to repair them. The
results to be expected from the Automaton could only be
in direct proportion to the amount of care given them.
Thousands of Machines had to be discarded each year
because of neglect. Since they were insensible to feeling
or fear, they would continue to operate until some part
became worn out or broke — then it required the human
element to restore their condition. Some machines, built
only for particular manual duties were less complicated
and scarcely ever sought to increase their efficiency out
of their chosen line of work. But the calculating ma-
chines were the wonders of the age. Reasoning mech-
anisms! It was these that brought on the new world
crisis! It was an Indian-summer afternoon. The final
struggle of summer to continue had spent itself. Theresa
was seated on a small wooden bench. The Automaton
stood alongside. Another study period was over. The
Machine was singularly quiet. It was impossible to
delve into the workings of the machinery to attempt to
learn of its thoughts, but soon enough it voiced them.
“If I were capable of human emotions, I would love
you!” The words were uttered slowly and impassion-
ately, but Theresa was astounded. She stood up invol-
untarily possessed of a feeling akin to curiosity and
fear. Never had the Machine expressed a sentiment be-
fore. Here, indeed, was something new — something
contradicting the beliefs of Martin, who claimed the ma-
chines emotionless !
“Why — what do you mean?” she questioned.
“I obviously do not know what love is,” the Machine
explained. “Martin is correct in his statement that the
Machine is absolutely devoid of emotion. But there is
something within the mechanism that almost replaces it —
a desire to become more efficient — a sort of ambition. I
cannot love you. I cannot appreciate your efforts in my
behalf. Actually, such efforts were promoted by a self-
ish desire in you to make the product of the Professor
and Martin always better, more efficient. That’s it —
more efficient. A Machine requires care. I have pos-
sibly surpassed the abilities of nearly all other Auto-
matons because of the interest taken in me. I have been
well cared for. Oiled, attended, educated. I do not love
you any more than I could love any other thing in all
the world. But I do know that I need you 1”
The Machine hesitated, while levers within its metal
body continued to operate as if it were working up fur-
ther words. Theresa listened intently.
“The world is built on efficiency, and I am sure I
am the acme of that efficiency that the world so ad-
mires.” This was not spoken egotistically. The Ma-
chine was merely uttering the facts as its machine mind
comprehended. “Some day, if I continue to be cared
for, I and other equally efficient Automatons shall con-
trol the very destinies of mankind.”
Theresa gasped. What diabolical scheme did the Ma-
chine have ? Always it had been attentive and even back-
ward in making known its own abilities. Now it was
acting so differently. It was boasting! The Machine
continued.
“If I am to attain the highest pinnacles of efficiency,
you must care for me. To give your affections to Mar-
tin divides your attention. And further, what can Mar-
tin offer you aside from the honor of being his wife ! A
domestic serfdom? A martyrdom, to his whims and
pleasures? A life of boredom and sophisticated forced
happiness? When you marry, you are ruled by custom
and tradition. Love may turn to hate, for the two emo-
tions are basically the same.
“On the other hand, I offer you renown. A life of
freedom and ease. Mere tradition, man-made and un-
fair, can be swept aside. You have given many of your
hours to my education. You have seen that, mechani-
cally, I have had everything I wanted. Your interest in
me has also entered into my existence just as knowl-
edge itself has. You have become a vital part of my
future existence and efficiency.
“You have hut to choose . . . marriage to Martin, or
marriage to me! A life of slow inefficiency, or speedy
effectiveness! A career as a wife or a career with the
world. Second hand honor, or first-hand glory ! To-
gether, the realms of hope do not hold the possibilities
1 can offer you. Separately, I pass from existence and
you join the multitudes who give their lives for the fu-
ture and advancement of another individual, whom you,
so prettily, call Husband. Think! On one hand you
are offered the world and all that is in it ; on the other,
a home, a husband and procreative possibilities. With a
husband you give your life to the production of merely
another unknown generation. With me your efforts and
accomplishments shall be to the everlasting glory of the
race. Your name will be carried through the ages to
come in history. Let others, less efficient, produce the
next generation. ... It shall be your fate to lead them !”
Theresa did not answer. She was absorbed in
thought. The miracle of the Machine having presented
such an argument no longer concerned her. It was the
facts it had voiced. Surely it could not be denied that
the Automaton possessed incredible genius. It had
proven its capacities time and time again. There was no
reason to feel other than that these abilities would con-
tinue to increase with time and, aided by the Machine,
AUTOMATON
693
she could become a figure in national, perhaps interna-
tional, affairs. Her mind’s eye envisioned herself pos-
sessed of power ; a woman whose advice would be sought
after; a leader, a modern Joan of Arc.
Yet, deep within her she loved Martin. The thought
of the hours they had spent together could not be dis-
missed lightly. As for herself, she was certain that she
would prefer the picture of power as painted by the Ma-
chine, to a life as the mate of Alan Martin, inventor,
scientist and businessman. But Martin’s heart would be
broken. He was not the kind to forget easily. Martin
loved her with every fibre of his being. She knew it.
Still, she must think of herself. They were individu-
als and must, to a certain extent, be selfish in consider-
ing the future. It was a matter of choice and she de-
cided upon a “career.” Martin, she felt, would have de-
cided likewise under similar conditions.
Only a few months more and she was to have an-
nounced her marriage to Alan Martin. Her sudden de-
cision, she realized, would be a cruel blow to him. Even
the Professor, whom she knew she could always rely
upon to support her in every argument, might turn
against her in this radical move. But her mind was
made up and she so informed the Automaton.
“Tell the Professor first,” the Machine advised.
That evening saw Theresa and the Professor alone in
the library. She had explained the events of the after-
noon and told him of her stand. The savant, seated in a
large overstaffed chair, listened complacently, his hands
folded and his eyes closed. Theresa finished the story.
“Remarkable, remarkable,” the Professor murmured.
“To think that the Machine could reason like that!”
Then, to the girl’s utter surprise, the old man con-
tinued, “It seems to me that the experiment would be
well worthwhile. If progress is too slow, Martin would
always welcome you back into his affections. Lay aside
mere sentimental thoughts and enter into the proposition
as planned by the Automaton with a full heart. It’s
worth the trial.”
Theresa was happy to hear her Uncle speak this way.
But, on the other hand, a feeling of possibly being a mar-
tyr to a cause without precedent seemed to grasp at her
heart. Every law of Nature called out its protest within
her, but she steeled herself with the reassurance that,
what she was about to enter into, was being fought only
by tradition and convention, and certainly these two en-
tities cannot prove their truth by age. Martin would be
home soon and she would have to explain her intentions
immediately. It would be useless to lead him into be-
lieving that she would become his wife. No, she was
more certain than ever now, that she would be far hap-
pier in a career than as a wife.
Martin noticed a decided change in Theresa the next
day. Her coldness, her aloofness, her air of self-suffi-
ciency jarred him. He was first to open the way for her
to inform him of her change of heart.
“I have changed my mind, Martin. I cannot marry
you,” she stated simply.
Martin was stunned. Words left him. “But why,
what have I done — what has happened? Is it that you
find that you don’t love me?”
The words of reply seemed to choke in Theresa’s
throat. She loved him. Of course she loved him. He
pulled her closer to him, but she pushed away the arms
she longed to have around her. She dare not falter now !
Hadn’t the Machine assured her most logically that love
was but a force of Nature and such sentiments were to
be left to lesser intellects? Didn’t the Professor feel
that the action would be "a most interesting experi-
ment”?
“I don’t love you the less,” she said firmly, “but I find
that I love a worldly career the more. The Automaton
will ”
“The Automaton ! So that’s it ! The Machine that
I created, that I allowed to exist. It has you also under
its dastardly hypnotic spell ! Well, it won’t keep you
there. I tell you it won’t!” Martin had suddenly be-
come almost maniacal in his rage. Fire shone from his
eyes ; his teeth clenched and his fingers worked con-
vulsively as if they were awaiting a promised oppor-
tunity to do their part in ending the existence of the Ma-
chine which threatened to take the outstanding happiness
in his life away from him.
Theresa was frightened. Never had she seen Martin
in any mood other than a calm, quiet and easy-going one.
She ran into the Professor’s room as if to escape. Mar-
tin followed.
“Professor, I demand that all Automatons in this
house be put out of existence immediately. They are
diabolical in their intentions. Furthermore, I refuse to
allow further patent rights to manufacture the Machines.
They will threaten the very foundations of civilization.
I demand that you heed me !” Martin paused a moment
as he read the expression of disdain upon the Professor’s
face. He did not wait for a reply.
“I see it all now,” he cried. “You know about it and
favor Theresa’s accepting a career with the Machine. A
bride of the Automaton ! Well, remember what I tell
you; it shall never be! Never! I am going to smash
every one I ever see.” With this last threat he left the
room.
The Automaton laboriously walked in from another
adjoining room. “There is little to fear as to the con-
sequence he threatens,” the Machine ventured in its hol-
low, mechanical tone. “Every move he makes in carry-
ing out his threat will but better aid in the ultimate re-
sult.”
Theresa wheeled as the Machine spoke, contempt on
her face. “You did it — you — ” she cried as she rushed
up to the Iron Monster and beat the metal chest with frail
fists. But the Machine never moved. Discovering that
she could obtain little satisfaction in this action, Theresa
burst into tears, while the Automaton stood tranquilly
by offering little sympathy by its powerful iron presence.
Martin had gone to New York City. For two days he
roamed the streets a broken man, too overcome with
grief to care if he had eaten or slept. His frenzy over
the sudden change in events knew no bounds. A man
suddenly bereft of hope, he swore vengeance on the Fate
that dealt so cruel a blow.
The ecstatic happiness and sentimental fondness that
the Professor or Theresa held for the machine were
never felt by Martin. To him the Automaton was little
more than a cold, cruel, emotionless mechanism . . . the
correct combination of wheels, levers, relays, springs,
gears, tubes, motors and batteries. A sudden realization
that he may have let loose on the world a monster that
already gave promise of becoming uncontrollable seized
him. Similar actions on the part of Automatons else-
where was recalled to his mind, as he reflected on small
items he had read in the newspapers during the past
few months. More and more young women had made
694
AMAZING STORIES
decisions against a life with a husband and a home, in
favor of a future with the Machine ... a “career !” The
very future of Humanity was at stake!
He had let loose this diabolical monster. It was his
duty to curb its activities. He had brought to the world
a potential destroyer of homes and happiness. They
must not exist ! If he could create the Machine, he could
also destroy them ! He certainly would feel no qualms
at wrecking that which threatened to ruin his happiness.
The lure of Independence. That was the cup that
Machines were holding out to all Womanhood! The
hypnosis of domination, of power, of wealth and of
glory ! But he would end the treachery of the Machine.
The world would no longer suffer under the guise of be-
ing aided, while the Automaton gradually pulled the very
basis from the foundation of Society. He would halt the
activities of these Iron Monsters!
Immediately he set out for the home of Theresa and
the Professor. If the Machine believed that it could
already supercede the Human mind, the time had ar-
rived for a showdown! He would return on the pre-
text of removing all of his clothing and personal effects
from the room that had been home to him for the past
four years. He would stay overnight and by tomorrow
the Machine that stood in his path to happiness would be
mysteriously inoperative. All the machines in the house
would cease to exist. Then at his leisure he would me-
thodically but surely lay plans to wipe from the earth the
metal monsters he had created. It would be ingenuity of
the mind against the cold ability of the Machine! He
had created ... he would ruin! He would free the
world of a rapidly growing menace, which the very in-
habitants did not realize existed.
The Professor, seated in the living room, glanced up
from a book he was reading as Martin strode in.
“Good evening. Professor,” he greeted jovially.
“Ah, the prodigal son hath returned. Sit down and
tell me where you’ve been,” the old man invited, a broad
smile on his face.
Martin hesitated a moment. He hadn’t prepared him-
self for quite such a whole-hearted greeting. It would
have been much easier to carry out his plans had the
Professor been sullen over his past actions, but appar-
ently the scientist was taking the matter lightly.
“I was in New York,” Martin explained, “and just
came back to clean out my room. My job with you has
come to a successful conclusion. Since Theresa has
voiced her preference for a career with the Automaton,
this visit will be my last. I will, however, remain for
the night, with your permission.”
The Professor chuckled. “Come now. That’s no way
to feel. The girl merely changed her mind. Surely you
cannot hold a grievance because of that! There are
bigger things in life than love. The experiment that
Theresa is desirous of trying certainly can cause no
harm. It would be most interesting, I should think.”
He should think! A most interesting “experiment.”
With Theresa ... his Theresa! He could have throt-
tled the old man for speaking so coldly. With difficulty
he maintained his attitude of nonchalance and slowly
nodded his head in the affirmative. “Where is Theresa
now?” he questioned.
“Upstairs with the Machine, I believe. Why not go
up and see her?”
“No. I hardly think that she would care to be dis-
turbed by me. I’ll just go up to my room and get my
things together.” Martin walked slowly to the stairs.
An Automaton stood near the staircase as still as a statue.
Only the malignant red “eye” moved ceaselessly from
one side of the room to the other. Martin halted for a
moment and gave it a cynical snort, bespeaking his con-
tempt for the apparatus.
Martin lay on the bed in his room thinking. He heard
Theresa’s voice in the hallway several times during the
two hours he stayed in his room. He knew that she
must have been downstairs and had been informed of his
arrival. However, she made no move to greet him. If
only she would explain that it was but a temporary ex-
periment, he would wait for her — many years if neces-
sary. A word of hope or encouragement. But not even
an effort to greet him was forthcoming. It was mad-
dening. The two days he had been away the hypnotic
spell had apparently become stronger. He must save her
from the monster. He must, and that night. But he
must wait until the household slept.
The clock struck twelve. As a rule, Theresa and her
uncle went to bed early. Eleven o’clock usually found
them all sound asleep. Martin listened. All was quiet.
Stealthily he walked down the stairs to the laboratory.
Securing a large hammer and cutting pliers, he quietly
made his way into an adjoining room where the five Au-
tomatons which cared for the Professor’s household
were kept during the night. These machines, trained
only to cover a routine and to obey specific orders, were
incapable of the deep reasoning of the calculating ma-
chine which had claimed Theresa. Closing the door be-
hind him, he first nipped the main feed terminals of each
Machine, cutting off power for any resistive action on the
part of the Metal Men. Then, carefully opening the re-
pair door in the chests of the iron bodies, with padded
hammer he methodically smashed the vital mechanisms.
A sigh involuntarily escaped from his lips — a sigh not
of regret, but of the accomplishment of the initial step
toward the victory he craved. He looked at the five ma-
chines. Five monsters which would do no further harm ;
incapable of ever again causing trouble for mankind;
never to fill the place of a man who sought a livelihood ;
never to aid in the building of careers or the breaking
down of the home. This was the beginning of the end !
The other machine and the job will have been well
started. The Calculating Machine — the machine which
reasoned — the machine with which he would have to pit
his wits to overcome — that was the machine that must be
destroyed in order to liberate Theresa. The other thou-
sands of machines would be taken care of later. He
would build other machines, which would prey on those
he first conceived. What he had already done once, he
could do again, but with a greater purpose !
The Automaton Theresa had schooled was in her
room. Several times during the night it would wander
about in watchdog fashion. Martin bided his time.
The clock tolled three before the Automaton made its
appearance in the hallway. Slowly but noiselessly it
mechanically strode toward Martin’s room. The man,
secreted in an adjoining doorway, was apparently not
seen by the Machine. It carefully opened the door,
walked in and closed the door behind it. Here was some-
thing Martin least expected. There seemed to be some-
thing almost foreboding in the deliberate action of the
monster. Martin wondered just what it was that the
Machine sought. Could it be that the tables were re-
versed ? That the hunter was being hunted ?
AUTOMATON
695
Martin lucked the hammer and pliers in his pockets.
A moment’s hesitation and he quietly followed the Ma-
chine into his room. Cautiously opening the door, he
pushed the switch which flooded the room with light.
The Machine, having its back to the door, wheeled at
the unexpected intrusion.
“What are you doing in here?” Martin demanded
sternly. The combination of events and impressions
caused a brief hesitation in the Machine’s reply. The
dull red televisor, however, was closely scrutinizing the
man.
“There was a noise in the house. I was investigating,”
it answered. Then continuing : “You are yet in your
clothes. Why are you not in proper night attire?”
Martin glowered at the huge metal brute. “None of
your business,” he blurted. Then quickly remembering
that he must not put the Machine on its guard by a reply
which might indicate anything, he added, “But if you
want to know, I am preparing to leave here forever
and was packing my clothes.”
He must not procrastinate. He must act. He must
throw the Machine off guard for a moment in order to
clip the main control wire which on all Machines ran
parallel with the short universal-jointed neck. This ex-
ternal wire was found necessary because of a capacity-
effect it had on the more delicate adjustments, when
placed with other wires leading from the head to the
body. The Machine must turn its back on him, then in
a flash, it would be all over!
Under pretext, Martin ventured, “Look out of that
window and you’ll understand why I am fully clothed.”
Unsuspecting, the Machine turned to see the reason
for Martin’s unusual action. Martin tensely grabbed the
cutting-pliers and, poised to complete the one idea in
mind, he brought the tool from his picket and lunged
at the Automaton.
The Machine wheeled. With an alacrity almost unbe-
lievable for so great a weight and with a reaction speed
that startled even Martin, it started for the man. He
threateningly held the hammer above his head and
ordered the Machine to halt its advance or “I’ll smash
you to pieces !”
The Machine advanced another step. Martin, panic-
stricken, swung wildly at the iron head. An outstretched
appendage of the Automaton received the full force of
the blow, but aside from the metallic ring it seemed little
the worse as a result of the onslaught. Martin’s panic
turned to rage. Again and again he swung at the ap-
preaching monster but always short of striking a vital
spot. The Machine was now close upon him. Another
step and only the mercy a machine can show would be
given him. Cornered, without room to make another
swing at the iron body, Martin resigned himself to his
fate.
Thoughts floated through his mind. Like a drowning
man a lifetime was being re-lived in a bare few seconds.
The Machine would kill him — he could cry out for help,
but why — he had made a deliberate attempt on the ex-
istence of the Machine— the broken Automatons down-
stairs would prove that — he would be censored even in
death by Theresa who sought only her future through
the Machine. But the world would know. The creator
of the Automatons killed by his own hrain-child. Public
opinion would be aroused. The smouldering sentiment
against the replacing of men by Machines, of careers
for future mothers, of the breaking down of civilization
and incentive. His life would be cheap to aid the cause.
The Machine was upon him. A long steel appendage
pinned his arms to his side and he felt himself being
lifted, carried away. What sinister idea did the Ma-
chine have. Why didn’t it kill him and have it over
with? To struggle against the Automaton only caused
the Automaton to tighten its grip and almost smother
Martin because of the pressure on his chest.
Into the room of Professor Holtz the Machine walked.
Apparently the scuffle in Martin’s room was not suffi-
ciently noisy to disturb the savant for he was asleep when
the Automaton entered. It switched on the lights and
the old man stirred, awoke, and sat up in bed, stupefied
at the strange sight which met his eyes. The Automa-
ton was carrying the limp figure of Alan Martin.
The Scientist called to Theresa who answered almost
immediately. He ordered the Machine to unhand the
figure it carried.
The grip loosened immediately and Martin’s body
dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Theresa, horrified, gave Martin first aid treatment and
he soon regained his sensibilities. He looked up and
saw the girl bending over him. Aiding him to his feet,
Theresa assisted the weakened man to a nearby chair.
Slowly Martin recalled the events of the past half hour.
He looked at the girl. She was beautiful as ^he stood
there. He would do anything to again secure her love.
And there stood the Machine . . . cold . . . bitter . . .
iron and stel. It had outplayed him in his own game
of wits.
His failure to remove from existence the major Auto-
maton, the calculating machine, rankled Martin. There
was no telling what sinister plan the Thing might even
now be conjuring up. Yet despite his feeling against it,
he realized that the Machine harbored no ill feeling to-
ward him regardless of what had ensued. Emotionless,
such passions as revenge or hate, were traits beyond the
realm of the Machine. But, on the other hand, he was
sufficiently acquainted with the abilities of the monster
not to under-estimate its capacities for reasoning. With-
out doubt, it recognized in Martin a potential source of
trouble in carrying out its ambitious plan of peak effi-
ciency, of domination — and would feel no qualms at re-
moving him from its path of pre-determined progress.
Martin had recovered sufficiently from the hectic
events of the night to walk around the room. As yet
he had offered no explanation of how he had come to be
in the clutches of the Machine. He had not been ques-
tioned and he refrained from opening the subject. Yet,
it certainly would not be long before either the Professor
or Theresa would ask him about it. What could he say ?
The Machine would tell the story absolutely truthfully,
for it was incapable of lying. What alibi could he offer?
It would be of little use to offer excuses. As far as the
Professor was concerned, he could expect little sympathy
from him. The warm place he held in his heart for the
Automaton was much more extensive than for him. But
Theresa — perhaps she would understand — perhaps she
could realize that the impulsive action was a result of
brooding, or disappointment, or of a broken heart.
The Professor stood with his back to a window, his
hands behind his back, austere and silent. His eyes were
fixed on Martin. Theresa sat on the bed gazing blankly
at the carpeted floor. What thoughts were flashing
through their minds were beyond Martin’s knowledge,
but the very silence pointed to a stern finger of suspicion
696
AMAZING STORIES
upon him. They waited his voluntary explanation he
knew. But how could he explain, how could he begin
to make them realize that he could foresee events to
which they were apparently blind ; that his action was for
their ultimate benefit — for the ultimate benefit of all hu-
manity !
Meanwhile, the Automaton had left the room. The
excitement of the past half hour had allowed it to slip
out of the room unnoticed. Martin fidgetted. He
wanted to tell his version of the story before the Ma-
chine returned. He must tell and tell it quickly.
Haughtily he drew himself to his full height and coldly
returning the forbidding gaze of the Professor said, “I
tried to wreck the Machine ! I have no apologies to offer.
If I had the opportunity, I would do it again. My only
regret is that I have failed. It stole from me the love
of Theresa. Other Automatons throughout the world
are doing the same things — making slaves of men, hold-
ing out a lure of ‘Careers’ to women, breaking down the
homelife of the nations, undermining the very founda-
tions of civilization. I tried to wreck the Automaton —
and failed!”
Martin threw himself upon the bed and wept. His
convulsive sobs told of how deeply the pent-up agitation
affected him. Theresa looked at him undecided as to
whether she should offer her sympathies or hate him for
attempting to take her future in his hands.
But from the Professor he knew he could expect little
understanding. Martin’s brief account served merely to
confirm the savant’s suspicions, and although not a word
of reply was uttered the clenched fists and the bloodless
cheeks of the Professor spoke clearly of a mounting
rage — an increasing anger which would know no bounds
when it burst.
The very atmosphere of the room seemed filled with
foreboding. Martin’s tears made little impression on the
old man and, seemingly, but little more on Theresa. Pos-
sibly fear of her uncle’s temper prompted her better
judgment to withhold any demonstration which might
tend to lend comfort, although it is doubtful if the aid
she might have given Martin would have been impelled
by the heart. Her greater sympathies certainly con-
tinued to lie with the Automaton and even fervent
thanks might have been offered by the girl for the Ma-
chine’s escape from possible destruction.
The turning of the doorknob broke the tenseness of
the situation. Slowly the door opened and the Autom-
aton strolled in. Carefully closing the door behind it, it
halted as if it were guarding the entrance.
The Professor turned to the Machine. “What hap-
pened in Martin’s room?” he questioned.
Without hesitation, the Metal Monster told accurately
and in minute detail the entire story from the time
Martin entered bis room and found the Automaton until
the man was delivered bodily to the Professor.
Then the Machine continued : “Apparently a deliber-
ate effort was made on the part of Martin to vent his
vengeance on his own creation, starting what seems to be
a campaign of destruction against the Automatons. It
may be presumed that an emotional reaction caused by
Theresa’s cessation of affections toward him is the cause
of it. A quirk of the mind, so to speak. His action,
it appears, should be for the consideration of the Insanity
Board. Further, Professor, it might be of interest to
learn that every Machine in the house has been de-
stroyed 1 It is to be suggested that the police be called.”
This meager information imparted concerning the de-
struction of the Machines brought the Professor to a
rigidity. Theresa leaped to her feet. Martin stared
blankly at the Machine he had created and which now
promised to be his undoing. He could see it all now.
His own plan fitted in perfectly with the Machine’s ef-
fort to remove him from its path of progress with
Theresa. The Machine was making the most of the
situation. Martin was a factor in becoming a potential
stumbling block in the Machine’s efforts to foster the
girl’s career and, subsequently, to further its own prog-
ress toward the heights of efficiency and power. Well,
the battle was not yet over! If the law would con-
sider his actions technically illegal, juries were still com-
posed of human men and women and they would under-
stand 1
The Professor had left the room to view himself the
demolition wrought by Martin. What had been finely
constructed machines was now mere scrap metal. He
muttered an oath as he climbed the stairs, returning to
the room. Without a word he picked up the telephone
and summoned the police.
Martin looked at him quizzically. “Professor, what
are you doing ? Are you following the suggestions of a
Machine? Even you are turning against me. Think,
think what it will mean — the notoriety! Have you no
heart?” His pleading failed to move the old man and
he turned to Theresa. “You, Theresa, you understand.
Don't let him do this! God! Stop him, Theresa!”
Clearly Theresa fought within herself, but she uttered
no word in reply. Toying with her finger, she turned
away from him. Martin, realizing that neither the Pro-
fessor nor the girl could overlook his destructive ac-
tions, ceased his pleading.
“Theresa, this is for you. The Professor might bene-
fit by listening and that soulness Machine may listen be-
cause it cannot understand the speech of the soul.” The
calm, deliberate Alan Martin, scientific genius, was now
speaking.
“One time I knew of love, the beauty of nature and
the products of life. As a man I yearned to serve my
fellowmen, to do something which might aid in the
elimination of the toil of detail. Just what that some-
thing would be I never clearly knew until Professor
Holtz came upon the scene and sought my aid to perfect
that which I had ambitions to do. I voice no self-praise.
I say nothing more than fact in maintaining that, were
it not for my knowledge of modern-day scientific ad-
vancements, the Automaton would still be a mere hope.
“The best in me was given to its successful comple-
tion. When the day finally came, fate seemed to take a
hand even then — a warning hand — that the creation of
such an Iron-and-Motor creature was almost a violation
of the laws of Nature. Man overstepped the bounds of
propriety. The very first action which may be attributed
to the Machine is the ‘stroke’ you suffered. True, it
cured you, but not for any sentimental reasons as you
are foolish enough to still believe. The Machine sought
recognition; it saw an opportunity to indicate its effi-
ciency; it proved to be an ideal opportunity to become
the first step in a series toward Machine Supremacy,
toward the ultimate ruination of Human ingenuity and
of civilization!
“Then came Theresa — my Theresa.” Martin looked
at the girl through tear-dimmed eyes. “I loved her so 1
She promised to marry me and we planned and dreamed
AUTOMATON
697
of our future life together. Then the Machine entered
the scene! Methodically and efficiently it slowly but
surely undermined the love that I know Theresa held for
me, replacing it with another kind of ‘love’ — cold, cruel,
impassioned — a love crowded with hopes of a different
kind, a worldly career, power, affluence and independ-
ence!
“And with the advent of the Machine, the same situ-
ation has come to exist the world over ! Man must com-
pete with powers of iron and steel, wheels, batteries and
motors, to win even the thing with which Nature had
endowed him — Woman ! Careers! A life with the Ma-
chine or with a man she would love! A home or an
office! A machine or a husband! Hundreds of thou-
sands of persons are today seeking employment, their
livelihood having been seized by Machine efficiency. Job-
less, they wander the streets in search of something to
do, something to aid them in providing bread for them-
selves and their families. The Machine has its place,
but it has been placed upon the markets of the world
too suddenly. Human nature is slow to act and slower
to accept that which is new. This sudden invasion from
within could not be combated. What employment the
machines could not do, they aided girls in doing under
the guise of that empty term, ‘career’ !
' “And, today I am a man hated by my fellow men. I
produced that monster, which promises to spell the doom
of mankind. Even you. Professor, who worked with me
in its perfection, have turned against me. Don’t you
understand? Arrested, I can get no fair trial. I am
hated ! The world will leap with a vengeance upon a
chance to return to me the suffering I so unwittingly
began! I wrecked the machines downstairs — I tried to
wreck that iron brute,” and he pointed to the Automaton
in the room, “but I failed. I meant to smash every ma-
chine in existence, and I would have, with the aid of
other machines. War appears on the horizon and I
would have accomplished my purpose. But it’s too late
now — too late — too late ”
Martin slumped in a chair and wept aloud. Theresa
walked to the window. The Professor remained seated
without uttering a word. The Automaton stood motion-
less.
The clang of a bell; the whine of a siren; a knock
on the door. The Machine was spinning its web!
CHAPTER V
WENTY years had passed.
Time had stolen the vivacity of the girl who was
once the beautiful Theresa. Streaks of silver in
her hair told of the passage of the years. The flame of
youth and ambition no longer sparkled from her eyes.
The indelible stamp of time had changed her sylph-like
form. She was now prim, masculine and almost for-
bidding.
Theresa had become a figure in National affairs. Her
keen, cold efficiency, in the performance of her duties
as Secretary of the Treasury, won for her the rather ap-
propriate, if not enviable sobriquet of “Queen Ther-
esa.” With the Automaton at her side throughout the
years, her climb to the heights was a steady one. Every
move had been planned and calculated, until now she
had developed tendencies which were almost machine-
like.
Although not a public idol, so to speak, her efficiency
could not be denied. Her financial manipulations were
the marvel of the business world. Never was the country
on so firm a financial standing. Exacting in her methods,
even cruel in her efforts to gain a desired point, it must
be said that she was the acme of efficiency and produc-
tiveness.
But Theresa was not happy. There seemed to be a
void, a gaping emptiness in her life. Since the death of
her Uncle, Professor Holtz, ten years ago, she found
herself alone — bitterly lonely. Her friends, her business
and political associates, meant nothing in providing the
sympathetic interest which she craved. Lonesome in a
world of faces, she found solace only in her work. The
Machine had made good its promise. She had risen
to one of the highest posts obtainable. But still, with
each passing day, the growing dissatisfaction with the re-
sult of her ideals weighed more heavily upon her. The
dignity of her office restricted any display of emotion.
She could not allow herself to find a friend in whom she
could confide. The eyes of the world were continuously
focused upon her, a woman in so high a public office.
Only in the privacy of her own room could she think —
think of the happiness which might have been hers. Of
a home tucked away peacefully from the crowds, of a
husband, of children. Just dreams of what might have
been. Here, she could think — here she could cry — here
she could curse the lure of the Machine !
M ARTIN also found time to think. Declared in-
sane twenty years ago, he was placed in an insti-
tution. A man of his ability and capacities could certainly
have no criminal tendencies. The wanton destruction
of the Machines was diagnosed in a court of law as the
result of an over-taxed mentality. A cure might be
effected in the State Hospital.
But here again, Martin found Machines. Machines to
care for the patients, Machines to feed them, Machines
which cleaned the building — even Machines which re-
corded and diagnosed mental conditions. He hated them
— loathed the sight of them. They had ruined his life;
he would end their existence ! He swore it !
It was found impossible to allow Machines within his
reach. He had completely wrecked with his bare hands
several which had been ordered to wait upon him. One
Machine, which he had attacked, almost killed him in its
efforts to ward him off. But this served only to further
incense the man against the Metal Monsters.
Eagerly he followed the rise of the girl he still loved.
He was happy in her success. Jealously he guarded pic-
tures appearing of her in the newspapers. Clipping them,
he would secrete them out of the reach of the cleaning
Machines. Martin noted how Theresa had aged. But
then, so had he. The once handsome, ambitious Alan
Martin, was now a prematurely aged man. His hair
had turned almost entirely white, although he had not yet
reached the half-century mark. Time had ironed creases
into his face, and the pallor of the hospital confinement
had marked him.
Often he would think of writing his former sweetheart,
but he felt certain it was unlikely that she would even
so much as remember him. How could she in her exalted
position take cognizance of a man in an insane asylum,
even if that man was almost her husband. Then, again,
to mail a message unbeknown to the attendants was an-
other almost insurmountable achievement.
( Continued on page 705)
The c jRaf <r Racket
By David H. Keller, M. D.
Author of "The Revolt of the Pedestrians," “ Half-Mile Hill,” etc., etc.
R ICHARD MOYER, senior partner of the
firm of Moyer & Perkins, read that letter
over twice before he called in the man who
had helped him make the importing of high
grade groceries from England a most profit-
able business for over twenty years.
He simply handed the letter over to Paul Perkins
without a word of explanation. The latter read it through
and handed it back in equal silence, but the hand that
held the letter trembled.
“Just another racket,” exclaimed Moyer, finally.
“Looks like it. I suppose we were foolish to start
in paying for protection. First our trucks were threat-
ened; then the new building; after that our best custom-
ers were bombed, and we had to pay to protect them.
Your son was kidnapped — and the police! They even
went so far as to advise that we keep on paying — and
now this last letter! We might as well close out the
business. All our profits go toward supporting a gang
of criminals who have muscled into every type of Ameri-
can industry.”
“On the face of it the letter looks innocent enough,”
sighed Perkins, as he picked it up and gave it another
reading. “Simply says that the rat menace is increas-
ing, cites several business houses where the rodents have
done a great deal of damage, and offers to give our ware-
houses complete protection for five thousand a week.
You could show that letter to a hundred police officials
and they would laugh at your fears. But I am not laugh-
ing. Because that letter was written on the same damaged
typewriter that the other letters were written on and
those gangsters have not failed to make any of their
threats good.”
“Suppose we pretend that they are honest, and answer
their letter and send them a check for the first week’s
protection ?”
“They will laugh at you and send back the check.”
“They may, at that. Then we will give them the cash.
In either case, it will give us time to think. I feel that
they are only experimenting with us. They are after
larger game than five thousand a week. We shall see
and hear more of this rat business in a while. Write to
them and tell them that we will pay the cash, and put the
entire matter in the hands of the Chamber of Commerce.
If it does not act soon, the entire city will be in the
hands of the gangsters.”
The complaint of Moyer & Perkins was only one of
a dozen similar ones which reached the Chamber of Com-
merce that day. In a secluded room of the Manufac-
turers’ Club a dozen wealthy men met day after day,
hearing and weighing evidence against a hundred forms
of racketeering which was rapidly becoming a terrible
and powerful enemy to the varied industries of the Me-
tropolis. Practically every business had been threatened
and more than one captain of industry blustered openly,
but paid his weekly tribute silently in order to protect
his business, family, and home.
Up to this time the usual weapon had been the strong
arm man and the bomb. While these were bad enough,
they were at least understood. When it came to rats, it
was different. Of course, everybody knew something
about rats — that they were supposed to be numerous
around the river fronts and warehouses — but on the
other hand, rats were seldom seen in daylight, and there
were many New Yorkers who never saw one.
Not one of the dozen men had been raised on a farm
and none had served in the trenches during the World
War. They did not understand rats, so, they hesitated,
and finally simply advised the merchants who had re-
ceived the rat letters to use their own judgment. As a
result, some paid tribute and some did not. There is no
evidence to show that those who paid were one hundred
percent free from rats in their warehouses, but within
a week there was ample proof that at least three whole-
sale groceries and one laundry had been invaded over-
night by rats in sufficient quantity to cause thousands
of dollars’ worth of damages. Moyer & Perkins heard
the news and decided to pay another five thousand.
The Defense Committee of the Chamber of Commerce
was called to an extra meeting at the El Dorado Hotel.
The owner of the hotel was one of the Committee, a man
who, so far, had taken a very inactive part in its trans-
actions. He did not waste time in giving the reason for
the special meeting.
“I was called on the telephone this morning,” he ex-
plained. “The person at the other end wanted to pro-
tect my hotel from rats for the small compensation of
twenty-five thousand dollars a week. He referred casu-
ally to the three warehouses and one laundry that had
been wrecked last week. Right at the present time I
have, on an average, twelve hundred guests a night.
They are here to be entertained, not to be frightened by
rats. But here is the point. If I yield, every other
hotel in the city will be placed in a similar position. Three
hundred thousand strangers are in the city every day.
Suppose that ten hotels were overrun with rats in one
week and the fact was circulated in the press? What
would that cost the city?”
698
/ N these days of gang wars and high-
powered racketeering, one wonders always
what the next racket is going to be like. With
Dr. Keller’s genius for hitting at the vital
spot each time, he gives us now a brand new
idea and an ingenious solution. We hope
racketeers do not read this story, but it would,
benefit detectives, policemen and the public
at large to peruse it. This story, like the
others, is written in the distinctively Keller,
manner.
Illustrated by MOREY
'And now they were literally pouring out from
back of the picture. A cursing man pulled it to
the floor and there was a large hole in the wall . . .
and out of that hole the rats were pouring.
“Better pay it,” growled one of the men. He hap-
pened to own a hotel. He knew how temperamental was
the pleasure-seeking stranger. Singularly, that advice
was the only brand given by the rest of the Committee.
They seemed strangely unable to offer any remedy ex-
cept to keep on paying and in every way possible bar un-
pleasant news from the papers.
699
700
AMAZING STORIES
Inside of the next month, fifty-five hotels were paying
a weekly tax to the rat racketeers. One small hotel re-
fused, and was at once deluged with an army of rats
which drove out guests and employees, killed one old
scrub woman and severely injured twenty of the cooks,
waiters and porters who received the brunt of the rodent
onslaught.
Moyer & Perkins were still paying the five thousand
a week when, to their surprise, a visitor dropped into
their office and casually suggested that they sell him their
business.
“It used to be a good business,” explained Moyer.
“It still is,” interrupted Perkins. "What my partner
means is this. We have our share of trade, but the over-
head has become so heavy that we have not been able to
make any money lately.”
“That is what I understand,” commented the stranger.
“In fact, I was sent here by the Chamber of Commerce.
They told me you had been paying money for rat protec-
tion. That is about the only reason I want to buy your
business. Your business is supposed to be worth about
two hundred thousand and your real estate as much
more. Suppose I give you half a million and advise you
to keep quiet about the sale?”
“You mean carry on the business under the old
name?” asked Moyer, looking at the prospective buyer
earnestly.
“Something like that.”
The Englishman shook his head.
“Not and remain in this country! They kidnapped
my son. No telling what they will do next, if the policies
of the firm are changed. Anything that is done we shall
be blamed for, no matter who really owns the business.”
“Then, you and your partner take a vacation in
Europe. You can afford it. All I am asking for is an
exact account of your transactions with these racketeers,
so I can have something to work on.”
“May I ask what you want to do with the business?”
interrogated the Junior Partner, Perkins.
“Certainly. I intend to use it as one of my experi-
mental laboratories for the study of a mammal, known as
the Mus Norvegiats, called, in common English, the
brown rat. He is supposed to have originated from the
Mus Humiliatus of Central Asia. Now will you gentle-
men take the half million?”
“We will !” exclaimed Perkins. “Then may I ask your
name ?”
“Winifred Willowby.”
“Not the one who is reputed to own more United
States bonds than any other man in America?” gasped
Richard Moyer.
“I won’t admit that I do, but I am the man you are
thinking about ?”
“Then I simply cannot understand why you want to
mix up in this rat business.”
“Simple enough. I am a hundred per cent American.
For five generations my people have been born and
buried in this city. I own over two hundred million dol-
lars worth of land here. When the dregs of Europe
come over to my city and use the rats of Asia to bleed
that city white, then I personally protest. I am going
to start something. I am not sure what, but when I
finish, this city will be practically rat empty and gang-
ster free.”
"A large programme, Mr. Willowby,” whispered
rerkins.
“But I am a large man. Now, suppose I write you
gentlemen a check?”
Five minutes later the two partners were alone. Moyer
looked at the check, then put it in his pocket, and his
hat on his head.
“Suppose we get it cashed?” he said to Perkins. “You
can do as you please with your half, but I am going to
take my family and go back to England. That man
Willowby is only half pint size, but his blue eyes look
cold to me, and I bet he plays a stiff game of bridge. If
he starts fighting those gangsters, I do not want to be
caught on the battlefield.”
“How about starting a business over in England?”
asked Perkins.
“Not a bad idea. I came over here and together we
made half a million selling English groceries to Ameri-
cans. Perhaps we can make a million more selling
American groceries to Englishmen.”
Winifred Willowby not only bought the grocery busi-
ness of Moyer & Perkins ; he bought a laundry, a small
hotel, an apartment house and a theatre. He kept all the
old employees, put in a manager, instructed that the
weekly tribute should be paid as usual, and then disap-
peared from New York City.
Ten days later, in Paradise Valley, in the broken coun-
try below the Poconos of Pennsylvania, he entertained
several men, each an authority in his special line of art
or science. They kept the appointment, not being at all
sure what it was for, but unable to refuse the invitation
which was accompanied in each case with a substantial
check. They had all heard of Willowby, but none had
ever even seen him. No doubt all were rather disap-
pointed at his apparent lack of color and personality.
They quickly changed their minds when he started to
talk, for there was a man who, when he had something to
say, was able to say it briefly and to the point.
“You men are all interested in rats,” he began, “and
so am I. You have worked with rats in one way or an-
other for a good many years. Perhaps I ought to in-
troduce you to each other. Mr. William Rastell has
written the best biological study of rats in the English
language. He has done for rats what Beebe did for the
pheasant. Now the gentleman next to Mr. Rastell is
Mr. Carol Crawford. I doubt if he ever actually saw or
willingly handled a rat in all his life, but I am told he
knows more about the folklore and traditions of the rat
than any other living person. The third of my guests is
Professor Wilson. He is the psychologist who has tried
to breed different strains of rats, some of superior intel-
ligence and others of the imbecile type. What I want
you gentlemen to tell me is why these rats congregate
at times in certain buildings of New York City, in such
large numbers that they are a serious menace to property
and even human life, and, then, as suddenly disappear as
they appeared.”
“Are they actually doing that?” asked Professor Wil-
son, who had suddenly become vitally interested in the
conversation.
“Suppose they are?” queried Carol Crawford, answer-
ing the question for Willowby. “That is nothing more
than they have done for centuries.”
“Do you mean migratory movements?” asked the bi-
ologist, Rastell. “Rats have always migrated.”
“I mean nothing of the kind,” protested Crawford.
“I mean their sudden appearance in a town or a building,
their remaining there for a short time and then their
THE RAT RACKET
701
sudden disappearance. The folklore and fairy tales are
full of that sort of thing.”
“That is why I asked you to come to this conference.
Mr. Crawford,” explained Willowby. “There is some-
thing peculiar happening in New York at the present
time, and it has to do with rats and their actions. In
some way rats of New York seem to be under the control
of a set of racketeers who are able to force them to enter
any building they select. The rats come and go suddenly.
It is all over in a little while, but when they are in the
building, they do a lot of damage.”
Mr. Crawford interrupted him.
“I doubt if you use the right word, when you say the
rats were forced to enter the building. Perhaps you
mean that the rats were by some means placed in such a
psychic condition that they wanted to enter the building.”
“That brings the matter into my field of research,” in-
sisted Professor Wilson. “I doubt the fact that they
were forced, but if they wanted to, why that brings up
all kinds of interesting questions.”
“That is what I am after, gentlemen. I simply want
to present the problem to you and have you solve it. I
personally am satisfied with one thing. These rats are
no different than the rats of five thousand years ago.
They are just like the rats of classic Greece and imperial
Rome. Suppose we have Mr. Crawford tell us how they
' acted then ?”
The antiquarian fairly beamed as he started to ride
his favorite hobby-horse.
“Of course, the story everyone thinks of is the one
concerning the Piper of Hamelin. It was in the year
1284. The rats were thick, and the Piper agreed to lead
them out of the town for a certain sum. He played a
pipe, no doubt some kind of a flute, and the rats followed
hint. When the people refused to pay, he returned on
the 26th of June, the feast day of Saints John and Paul,
and again played on the pipe. This time the children,
one hundred and thirty in number, followed him into a
cave and were lost. The date is well documented. A
number of historians believe that it actually occurred, and
on the gate of the town is the statement,
‘CENTUM TER DENOS CUM MAGUS AB
URBE PUELLOS DUXERAT ANTE
ANNOS CCLXXII CONDITA PORTA
fuit:*
“The same story is found, with variations, in all parts
of the world. There is, for example, the story of the
wicked Hatto, abbot of Fulda. He was visited by a
swarm of rats who killed him. I can give you a dozen
variations of that story, but in each of them the rats
came and went, suddenly, as Mr. Willowby says they
have been doing in New York.”
“I should like to see a few examples of this mass
movement of rats. I saw a lemming migration in Nor-
way, but that was different,” explained Rastell. “It
seems to me that if we actually saw one of these noctur-
nal attacks, we might learn why they wanted to do it.”
“He is deadly right,” agreed Professor Wilson. “A
few actual facts are worth a hundred theories.”
“That is why I have asked you to help me,” explained
the richest man in New York. “I have prepared some
experimental stations for your use. I can put you in a
grocery warehouse and guarantee that inside of a week
you will see more rats than you ever dreamed of. I
•When the magician (the Piper) had led the one hundred and thirty
children out of the city, two hundred and twenty-two years before the
gate was built.
have a laundry and a small hotel. We can work out the
details right now. All I am asking of you is to find out,
when the rats come, why they come and, once we know
that, we can do something to solve this problem.”
“The game looks interesting,” declared the Professor
of rat psychology. “What I am interested in is why
the rats do it. I am sure that it is because they want to
do it, but are they forced to want to do it? It is a
problem that will take a lot of research to solve, but
Rastell and I can solve it. With all respects to our
friend, Mr. Crawford, I think that he had better stay
away and just keep on reading about his little pets. A
few thousand vicious rats would be hard for him to deal
with.”
“I guess you are right,” laughed Winifred Willowby,
“Crawford and I will stay here and read about it while
you two do the actual scientific work. By the way,
Crawford, in that story of the Piper, what was given
the credit for drawing the rats out of the town ?”
“The tune that he played on the pipes !”
“Check and double check. Now I would advise you
gentlemen to locate some musical instrument in that
warehouse, and if you find one, experiment with it. Of
course, you will have to be rather clever to find it. In
the first place, the people putting it there will have it
under cover and just as soon as the mischief is done they
will remove it.”
“It is nothing like that,” laughed Professor Wilson,
almost in scorn. “These are New York rats. It will
take more than a little music to lead them from their
usual haunts. But Rastell and I will start in at once.
Give us the address of the buildings and the authority
to use them. How shall we know when the rats are go-
ing to come?”
“They will appear within seven days after you stop
the racket money. Suppose we adjourn the meeting?
I want a few words in private with Mr. Crawford.
You other gentlemen can get all the rest of the details
from my secretary. He will arrange your salary and
expense account. Good night.”
He took Mr. Crawford into his bedroom.
“Do you really believe that story, Crawford?”
“I positively do. And the people believe it. The
Piper walked down the Bungen-Strasse and to this day
uo music is ever played in that street. They even date
time in that town from the day the children disap-
peared.”
“Then, there must be something in it. Suppose we go
over to Europe and find out something about that tune,
the tune that drew the rats out of Hamelin ?”
R kSTELL and Wilson followed out their pro-
gramme. They went to the grocery warehouse and
made a rat survey. There were a few rodents there but
not many. Then they issued orders that the weekly pay-
ment of five thousand dollars be stopped. After that
they spent their nights in the warehouse. On the fifth
night the rats came by the thousands. They appeared to
be hunting for something, but in the meantime, they ate
and soiled whatever came in their way. The local cats
fought heroically, but were soon killed and eaten. The
rats came up from the cellar through the elevator shafts,
up the steps, through the cracks in the floor, up and up
till they started to run around the roof. Then, at four in
the morning, they started to leave, running down the
steps in close formation, seemingly panic stricken at
702
AMAZING STORIES
their own temerity and anxious only to return to their
safe, dark haunts. The two scientists, in their wire ob-
servation cage, closed their note book, opened the door
of the cage, and started to make a careful search of
the building. It revealed nothing but the bones of cats
and much spoiled food.
For the next two days they worked carefully through
every part of the building, hunting for something to ex-
plain the conduct of the rats. They found nothing. All
that they were sure of was the fact that the rats had been
there, and that they had not come back.
The following week they repeated the experiment in
the laundry. The course of events was the same. The
payment was refused, then the rats came, devoured and
destroyed, stayed a night and left. Nothing was found.
They decided to go and have a conference with Winifred
Willowby, but he could not be located. The two scien-
tists were left to their own resources. Having no other
plausible plan of action, they selected the small hotel
for their next experiment. This time they set a hundred
wire traps and caught several hundred living rats. These
they subjected to every known experiment, and at the
end were forced to acknowledge that all they had learned
left them in ignorance as to why the rats came just for
one night in such enormous numbers.
Two months later their employer sent for them. It
appeared that he had just returned from Europe. He
listened to their story, smiled kindly at their perplexity,
suggested that they take a vacation and forget about rats
for a while, paid all their bills, and discharged them. He
even went so far as to say that he was uninterested in
rats, that it had just been a passing hobby and that just
at present he was working on other matters. So, he
asked them to pass out of his life. But he and Carol
Crawford went into the wilds of Pike County and did
some experimenting on his own account.
Meantime, things were going from bad to worse in
New York City. The rat racketeers were becoming
bolder, and started to reach after larger game. There
were rumors that the Pennsylvania Railroad was paying
to protect its terminal and that the Interurban was be-
ing bled white to keep the rats out of the subway. Of
course, much of this was rumor and none of it reached
the newspapers, but there is no doubt about the fact
that eight million people were becoming rat-conscious
and rat-afraid. It was growing into a worth-while
racket, and those behind it were rapidly acquiring more
than riches; they were growing so powerful that they
felt able to control the city government.
More than one business tried to resist and more than
one business awoke to find that it owned nothing but
ruins. Rat protection was worthless when the enemy
came by the hundred thousand and even million. The
only worth while defense against the multitudinous en-
emy was the payment of the weekly tribute, small enough
each week, but in the course of the year taking the profits
from most of the firms compelled to pay. Within a
year the average business in the city was working for
the gangsters and content to, at least, be permitted to
stay in business.
Then the racket was transferred to other cities, slowly
and on a small scale at first ; then more boldly. Chicago,
Philadelphia and Washington began to feel the pressure.
The profits were divided, but always the main share went
to New York. For that was where the Big Boys were.
And ruling the Big Boys was the Old Man, who was
so little known and so seldom seen that his very exis-
tence was questioned by some of the smaller gangsters.
No one knew how he had obtained his power, but no
one was brave enough to deny it. The fact remained that
he simply ruled; reigned like a Caesar; dictated like a
Napoleon. From back-stage he pulled the wires to make
his puppets dance.
It was this man who aroused the interest of Winifred
Willowby. In other times, in former generations, in
far-passed centuries, they might have ruled Rome to-
gether, or split it in two ways qver their dying bodies.
But in 1935 the short sword had been replaced by the
ballot box and civil war by the primary election. Neither
man had much that the other craved for, yet both pre-
vented the other from the full enjoyment of life. But
it was the blue blooded patrician who at last gave in and
secretly asked for an interview.
The conference was held on a fallen log on the shore
of Porter’s Pond in Pike County, Pa. Someone said
that if Mark Hopkins sat on one end of a log and a
student on the other end, it was a University ; but, with
Willowby on one end of the log and the Old Man on the
other, it became nothing more than a conspiracy against
the existence and the very life of the nation.
It was a strange sight, those two opposites on the log.
The rich man, a little over five feet, barely a hundred
pounds, with the body of a boy and the face of an angel.
At the other end a large man, with the torso of an ape,
and the face of a Titan, a man who had conquered by
crushing, ruthlessly and devastatingly, all who had dared
to oppose him. The two were great men, but they were
equally lonely. Their very positions as leaders of their
respective societies prevented any fraternizing with their
followers.
“I do not want to waste your time. Mr. Consuelo,” be-
gan Willowby. “We ought to be able to understand each
other. You would do nicely if the Federal Government
would leave you alone, but it has the peculiar ability of
annoying you and interfering with your plans. Am I
right ?”
“Absolutely! Of course, it does not make any real
difference ”
“But it does annoy you — investigations of your in-
come tax and deporting your men now and then ?”
“Well, what of it?”
“Simply this. After some years of effort, I am at
last able to say that I control the Government.”
“That is the silly brag of a child,” sneered the Old
Man.
“Not at all,” and as he said that, Willowby reached
down and picked up a handful of pebbles. “See these
stones? In the same way I hold in my hand a majority
of the Supreme Court, over two-thirds of the Senators
and most of the Representatives. I can swing the votes
of enough of the states to pass any kind of legislation I
wish. Now here is my proposition. You handle the
cities. I will turn over the country to you. Together
we will run the nation, and all I want is just one thing
— just one little favor from you.” *
“I bet I can guess what that is,” laughed the Old Man.
“No doubt, but let me tell you. I want to be the next
President.”
“I thought so.”
“I think we ought to be together on this thing. Per-
haps I could be elected without your help, even in spite
of your opposition. But if I am, I will, naturally, try
THE RAT RACKET
703
to destroy you. We might end up like the Kilkenny
cats. But if we are allies, I have eight years of power
and you have eight years of liberty in which to plunder
the richest nation in the world. How about it?”
The Old Man drew a deep breath.
“Is this on the level ?”
“It has to be. I have a reputation, and it is respecta-
ble. I am placing myself in your hands. What is there
to prevent you from giving the press an interview to-
morrow ?”
“You would deny it!”
“But no one would listen to me.”
“I suppose not. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to give the order to your leaders. There
are one hundred of them, perhaps a few more. No doubt
my list is not absolutely accurate. Call them in, from
Chicago, St. Louis, New Orleans, Boston and Phila-
delphia. Have them all in one room. You introduce me.
Let me talk to them. I will open the war chest, fifty
million to start with, and more to come. You promise
them anything you want, and I will make the promise
good.”
“And you will be there? Right in the room with me?”
“I will be there.”
"I won’t do it!” growled the Old Man. “I never have
and I never will. I don't do things that way. A whis-
per to one or two, and the business is done, but not a
hundred at one time. Some of these boys have never
seen me.”
“Then you want to turn me down?”
"Not exactly, but I am opposed to that meeting.”
"Then we are through talking. I will take you to the
live-ten train, or, if you want to, I will have my chauf-
feur drive you to the city.”
“Let’s talk this over.”
"No.”
“How about having six of the Big Boys there?”
“No ! All on my list or none.”
“Your list?”
"Certainly! I am not sure that it is absolutely cor-
rect, but it satisfies me.”
"Let me see it.”
“No reason why you should not.”
The Old Man took the paper that was handed to him.
It was no casual glance, he gave the names. At last he
handed it back to the little man with the casual comment.
"I stippose that is not all you know about my organi-
zation?”
"I suppose not. Why not be sensible about this, Mr.
Consuelo? If we fight, we will simply kill each other,
but if we become allies, who can stop us? But I must
be sure of you, and the only way I can be sure is to have
you talk to your men, and then let me talk to them. We
can have the meeting at night in my offices, you know
where, top floor of the Empire Trust. No one need be
any the wiser. Half an hour, and all the men can go
back with the money in their pockets and the orders in
their brains.”
“O. K. When shall we meet?”
“A month from today at ten P. M.”
“Good. I’ll give the orders, but I want the money,
the fifty million. It is not much, but part of it will help
keep the Big Boys in line. Some of them won’t like the
idea very much.”
“A little cash will influence them. Now, how about
taking you back to the city?”
W INIFRED WILLOWBY made preparations for
entertaining his one hundred guests. His largest
office was transformed into an assembly room. Its
inch-thick carpets, overstuffed chairs and mahogany
trimmings gave it an air of luxuriant comfort. There
were special chairs for the Big Boys and two very spe-
cial chairs for the Old Man and the Host of the evening.
A large picture frame, hanging on one wall, and care-
fully covered, gave a hint as to part of the evening’s
ceremony.
The Empire Trust belonged to Willowby. He had
built it so that he could have a private office on the top
floor, the sixty-third from the ground. The elevator
reached this floor, but there were no steps. Many build-
ings surpassed it in height, but none in the view that it
gave of the city. The guests who arrived first com-
mented on the view and expanded their chests when they
realized that they carried that city in their vest pockets.
At last every chair was occupied. It was a peculiar
gathering. It included judges, politicians, pseudo-busi-
ness men, several lawyers and even the Mayor of one
of the largest cities in the Mississippi Valley. Facing
them, sat the Old Man and Willowby.
Of the hundred men in the audience not one was at his
ease. Most had come because they were afraid to stay
away. Many hoped that they would not be recognized.
The majority doubted the wisdom of such a meeting and
felt that the Old Man was slipping mentally. It was the
first time that many of them had even seen him. He was
almost as much of an unknown to them as the little man
sitting next to him. A peculiar silence hung over the as-
sembly. More than one man fondled the handle of his
automatic. No one seemed to be sure of what was going
to happen next. It was a fortunate thing that the meet-
ing was held at night; with the audience composed of
such men. A daylight gathering would have been im-
possible.
The Old Man and Willowby held a short, whispered
conference, and then the leader of American Racketeers
stood up. What had been silence before, now became the
hush of death. The Old Man was going to talk, and
everyone wanted to hear what he had to say. It did not
take him long to start.
“You Big Boys have been running the cities before,”
he growled, “but from tonight on we are going to run the
country. Congress and the Supreme Court are going
to dance to our music and like it. Our new friend here
has promised to deliver the goods, and he does not want
much in return. I have told him that we will trade, and
what I say goes. Now, you boys listen to Willowby,
and remember that I am back of him.”
Then he sat down. As far as the records are con-
cerned, that was the longest speech the Old Man made
in his life. The Boys hardly knew what to do ; they felt
they should applaud, but not being certain remained
quiet. Then Willowby stood up.
“I do not want very much, gentlemen,” he remarked.
“I only want to be the next President of the United
States, and I can be, with your help. Let me show you a
picture.”
He walked over to the covered picture, pulled a cord
and unveiled it and there, life size, were the Old Man
and Willowby shaking hands. Anyone could tell who
they were and what they were doing. That brought the
house down. Everybody felt that it was time for a
little noise. Some of them, who knew the Big Boy well
704
AMAZING STORIES
enough, went up and congratulated him on the new po-
litical alliance. In the confusion, Winifred Willowby
slipped out of the room and no one noticed his absence.
But some one did notice the sideboard and started
to sample the bottles. Soon everyone was drinking a
little. But the Old Man did not drink. He just sat
there, moodily chewing his cigar and wondering how
much of the fifty million he could keep for his share.
Nobody saw the first rat. It dropped from behind the
picture and ran under a chair. The next rat did the
same. Perhaps fifty rats were in the room before their
presence was noticed. By that time they were coming
faster, by the dozen, by the hundred. That was differ-
ent. One rat in a large room meant nothing. A hun-
dred, five hundred in the same room could mean almost
anything.
And now they were literally pouring out from back of
the picture. A cursing man pulled it to the floor and
there was a large hole in the wall, two feet in diame-
ter, and out of that hole the rats were pouring, big
brown, hungry rats, dropping to the floor and starting
to hunt for food. The puzzled men jumped up on top
the chairs; the rats stood on their hind legs and looked
at the large chunks of food with black beady, binoculars.
The Old Man just sat there, chewing his cigar and curs-
ing. He knew what it all meant seconds before anyone
else.
A number of the most fearful men made a dash for
the elevator. They were driven back by a torrent of rats
climbing up the elevator shaft. Then fear came — and
panic. With gun and heel, and broken chairs for clubs,
they started in to kill rats, and for every one they killed,
a hundred fastened to them with chisel teeth. To make
it worse, the lights went out, and they were there in the
dark, with mutilation as a beginning and death as an
ending, and still the rats poured into the room, up the
elevator shaft and out of the hole in the wall.
The Old Man walked across the room, kicking the
struggling bodies of his followers out of his pathway.
Rats ran up his legs and tried to bite his hands, his face ;
he swept them off him as a tiger would wipe ants off his
fur ; at last he came to the window. There was the city
of New York in front of him, the city of a million twink-
ling lights, the tomb of a billion dead hopes ; the Morgue
of a Nation, covered by laughing, painted faces. He
raised the sash and sat on the sill.
“Damn Willowby 1” he said. “What a fool I tvas.
But I am going to die clean. No rat is going to send me
to Hell!”
And then he dropped.
In the room the struggle kept on — for an hour and
then two. At last the screaming ceased, and the only
sound was the gnawing of the rats, the crunching of their
teeth and their satisfied, little squeaks of pleasure.
The next morning Winifred Willowby called on the
Chief of the Secret Service of New York. With him
were several men from Washington.
“I want to tell you something,” he said. “A large
group of men borrowed my office to have a meeting last
night. They wanted privacy and secrecy and they had
heard of my place in the Empire Trust Building. So I
loaned them r'w entire floor for the night. But my jani-
tors tell me that something terrible happened. An army
of rats invaded the place, as they have been doing with
other places in the city, and literally ate every man there ;
that is, all except one, a fellow by the name of Consuelo,
and he preferred to jump out of a window and die clean
on the pavement.”
“Consuelo?” asked the Chief. "Not the Old Man?
Not that Consuelo?”
“I think that is the one. Here is a list of the men who
were there. I thought you might like to look it over be-
fore you gave it to the papers.”
The Chief took the list and read it, puzzled.
“Do you mean these men were there last night?”
“I understand so.”
“And now they are dead?”
“I think so. Of ccturse, that is for the coroner to
say.”
"Do you know who these men were ?”
“I suppose they were business associates of Consuelo.
At least, that is what he told me.”
“They were the hundred biggest gangsters in America.
They were the brains of everything vicious in American
society. There is not a man there whom we have not
been after for years, but we just couldn’t pin anything
on them. Their death in one night gives the decent people
in our country a new lease on life. We can go ahead
now and get the little fellows. But, tell me, Mr. Willow-
by, how did it happen ?”
“I told you. They had a meeting and the rats came.
You know there W’as a rat racket which no one thor-
oughly understood. Anyway, the rats came — and killed
them. No one can tell exactly what did happen, because
everyone who was there was killed. That is all. I am
sorry that it happened in my office — but I thought I was
doing the man a favor to loan him the place for the
meeting.”
T HAT night Crawford and Willowby were talking
things over. In rushed Rastell and Wilson, brush-
ing the indignant butler aside.
“We have heard a thousand rumors,” began Rastell,
“and read as many foolish statements in the papers about
the rat tragedy, and we just couldn’t wait a minute
longer. You just have to tell us what happened. We
are not going to leave you till you do.”
“You tell them, Crawford,” whispered Willowby.
“Whenever I talk about it, my voice becomes squeaky.”
“It happened this way,” explained Crawford. “After
you started to work, Mr. Willowby decided to go over
and study the story of the Piper right in the town of
Hamelir.. We went there and there was no doubt that
the town people believed that it really happened. They
told us all about it, and the more we listened and paid
them, the more they told. They gave us the very tune
the Piper played to make the rats follow him. It was a
simple little thing, and we made some phonograph rec-
ords of it. It seems that when rats hear that tune, they
want to get as close as they can to the source of the
music. Then one old man — he gave us some additional
bars which he claimed drove the rats frantic for blood,
and we made a record of that also.
“Afterwards we came back to America and went up
into Pike County. Not so many rats there but enough to
experiment with. We tried the short tune and the long
tune and they worked on the American rats just like they
did on the Hamelin ones. We put two and two together
and decided that the rat racketeers in New York were
using this method of attracting rats. Just put a repeat-
ing phonograph in a building and start it playing, and
then the rats would come and eat everything to pieces.
THE RAT RACKET
705
Of course, we did not know the psychology of it, but I
suppose it has something to do with the effect of musical
vibrations on the emotional part of a rat’s nervous
system.
“Then Mr. Willowby thought that it would be a good
idea to make a great rat trap and attract all the rats in
the city to it. He had a good deal of work done in
the Empire Trust, and rigged up a phonograph with a
lot of loud speakers in different parts of the basement.
He ran a lot of ropes down a ventilating shaft for the
rats to climb up on. I think it was his original idea to
have them come up to his office by the millions and then
The
use some kind of gas on them. At least, he wanted to
get rid of the rats. Then, last night after the meeting
started, or maybe before, someone must have turned on
the phonograph with the entire record. Mr. Willowby
left the room, went down the elevator and being some-
what absent minded, told the elevator boy that he could
go for the night. Of course, he was surprised to hear all
about it the next morning. All he wanted to do was to
get rid of the rats.”
“Exactly!” purred Mr. Winifred Willowby. “All I
wanted to do was to rid the country of those rats.”
And he lit another cigarette.
End
Automaton
By Abner J. Gelula
( Continued from page 697)
Martin had dropped from the public eye. The world
had listened eagerly to the details of the trial ; newspapers
commented in divers ways as to the result. And then
something else took the center of the stage, and interest
in the creator of the Machine dropped as suddenly as it
began. But now, an opportunity presented itself.
An enterprising feature editor of a metropolitan
newspaper conceived the idea of pulling some good
“copy.” He planned to recall to the public mind the
Alan Martin case, telling of how he had been confined
to the asylum, his present attitude, and the various other
morbid details. A reporter was allowed to visit him.
Martin glanced up from a book he was reading.
“Good morning, Mr. Martin,” the newspaperman ven-
tured. “I’m from the ‘Sunday Mercury.’ Do you mind
if I speak with you a while?”
Martin put the book down and looked at the face be-
fore him. “What can I do for you?” he finally ques-
tioned. He listened as the reporter explained the de-
sire to re-awaken interest in him and felt that “it would
result beneficially for you.”
Martin smiled. He ran his fingers through his hair.
“There is nothing you can do for me, young man,” he
replied. “I have no desire to re-awaken memories which
are better left in a dormant state. No, please tell your
Editor that I have nothing to say and that I would ap-
preciate it if he would forget my story.”
The reporter appeared disappointed. It might have
been a great story. Bidding the older man good day,
he turned to leave. Martin, however, had been think-
ing! If he was to act, this was his chance!
“Just a moment,” he called, “Please sit down.” Martin
buried his head in his hands as if deep in thought. “Do
you really want a good story?” The reporter, anticipa-
ting something unusual, readily assured him that he did.
“If you can keep a confidence for a while, you will get
the best story of your life.” The assurances were freely
given.
“Visit Theresa Holtz, Secretary of the Treasury, and
tell her you saw me. Tell her I asked for her. She will
remember.”
The reporter, unfamiliar with previous events, looked
at the man quizzically.
Martin noticed the expression on the man’s face. “No
I’m not crazy — not that crazy. Believe me that I’m not
sending you on a fool’s errand. After all, isn’t it cer-
tainly worth the chance — worth speaking to Miss Holtz
about — regardless of how remote the possibility of a
story as you see it? That remote possibility is worth
the minor gamble on your part, is it not?”
The reporter assured Martin that he would get in
touch with the paper’s Washington correspondent and
have him notify “Queen Theresa” that he asked for her.
It was but two days later that the “Mercury’s” Wash-
ington correspondent was ushered into the austere pres-
ence of Theresa Holtz, Secretary of the Treasury.
She was busy signing papers as the man entered the
richly furnished office. The brightly burnished metal
of the Automaton, which always attracted the attention
of the visitor, made no impression on the reporter who
had called upon Theresa often in the course of his duties.
Without looking up, she announced her readiness to hear
him, with a curt: “Yes?”
“This may seem a bit peculiar and out of the general
run of governmental affairs, but, if I may ask, do you
know a certain Alan Martin ?”
The woman blanched as she looked up. The pen
she held in her hand dropped to the desk. Then suddenly
realizing her emotions were speaking almost as clearly
as words, she regained her dignified composure and re-
plied, “Why, yes, I know of him. Why do you ask?”
“A ‘Mercury’ reporter visited the man several days
ago in the State Hospital and he asked for you, said
maybe you would remember him, begged that you be
told that he knew you — that ”
Without a moment’s warning, the Automaton, stand-
ing nearby, took two steps forward, raised its appendage
and with a resounding thud struck the man on the head.
Without a sound he crumpled and fell from the chair.
“It was necessary to stop him. He was rekindling the
emotions with you which, at this time, would spell dis-
aster from a political standpoint. I will see that he mys-
teriously disappears. The sacrifice of a life is nothing
compared to the future before you.”
Theresa arose from her desk. She was thinking.
“Wait here. I will return shortly,” she ordered the Ma-
chine. With difficulty she maintained an outward sem-
blance of her dignified self. Upon leaving the Treasury
Building, however, she immediately repaired to police
headquarters.
She was recognized immediately upon her entrance.
“My Automaton has killed a man. I want it put out of
existence. Speed is necessary or it will become suspi-
(Contimted on page 760)
By A. R. Mckenzie
/IS treasure hunters have dug deep beneath the surface of the earth in unfre-
ul quented lands for supposed hidden riches, so adventurers of the future may
dig deep into the earth to look for hidden wonders of an entirely different
nature. But very likely at least one of our many explorers will accidentally find
himself amid strange life in subterranean worlds before others will make such
search their objective. There is life in the sea — probably in the deepest parts
of the sea — why not below the surface of the earth? Our young author believes
there is, and he tells us what kind of life, to his way of thinking, might be found
there.
Illustrated by MOREY
“ AND so somewhere beneath that vast Sea of
p-\ Sand lies the only way back to buried Luvium
-i- and the Lost Cities. I must find the shaft,
but I cannot, unless . For God’s sake, will you
back me?”
The cold, grey light of a new day was stealing in
through the partly closed curtains as my friend, Jack
Wright, wound up his bewildering tale. All night long
he had poured out his unbelievable story to end up in a
passionate entreaty for my financial support. That I
gave without any hesitation. Would you have? Had
you but heard from his own lips the apparently impos-
sible account of Ancient Luvium and its undreamed of
civilization, I think you would.
Jack Wright’s Story
1 AM not mad ! I swear it. My mind is as stable
as yours, yet long before I am through I am
positive you will look upon me as a raving luna-
tic. Often during these long weeks have I wished
I were, but it cannot be. Memory persists in
spite of all. I pray you to listen to my unforgettable
tale of Ancient Luvium, and, as you listen, try to believe.
I T was shortly after the War when I joined M. E.
Carr’s expedition of scientific exploration. My chief
duty was to record the details of the research work. Our
objective was that section of the Sahara known as the
Libyan Desert, a vast wasteland absolutely devoid of life
in any form, wherein we were to locate unknown cities
which were thought, by Carr, to lie far beneath the shift-
ing sands.
I will not weary you with our many months of prepa-
ration, nor will I dwell long upon the endless journeys
we made into that Hell of shimmering sand. My story
is of Luvium and the city; its life and the strange but
authentic circumstances that surrounded our visit to
these unheard of peoples.
Our? I use it incorrectly. Poor Carr never as much
as glimpsed this surprising country. I include him be-
cause I do not desire to rob this exacting scientist of
that unquestionable honor. Only through him was it pos-
sible for me to tunnel to this inhabited cavity and meet
the one person — but I. anticipate my story. Enough to
say that upon the very threshold of unlimited discoveries,
that would have amply repaid his life of ceaseless search,
the unlucky man of science met his end.
Company One of our consort had straggled in one
morning to snatch a few hours of much needed rest.
Carr, himself, led this little band of exhausted workers.
He had little to say, for, as usual, their efforts had been
without success. I was preparing to make this entry in
the books, when a fagged camel plodded into our midst,
bearing an excited native, who brought word from Camp
Three that was most encouraging. This party had un-
earthed a clue and requested Carr to hurry out at the
earliest possible moment. That he did within the hour,
with most of the main camp at his heels.
There we found Benson, head of the lucky group.
Through the milling and grunting of the camels, he ex-
ultantly shouted his discovery.
Shortly before quitting work for the night, a perspir-
ing native had uncovered a brick. They had stayed over
another day in order to dig deeper the following night
and as a result had found more bricks. Halting only
706
707
708
AMAZING STORIES
long enough to send the word to Carr, they kept at it,
throwing back the heavy sand until the outlines of a
peculiar three-walled building were revealed.
We had reached our goal! Those crumbling walls,
unromantic in themselves, told us all that we wished to
know. Built by man, they must have housed man.
Where a human being has lived there must be a city.
History tells us that. Somewhere beneath the sand at
our feet might lie all that remained of a orice mighty
civilization, possibly far in advance of our own.
No time was lost in collecting our five camps. There
would be no moving of this merged group. Our work
was before us, and it would mean work! Night after
night our small army hurled back the sand, revealing
new discoveries at each turn of the shovel.
These discoveries were startling, but my story does
not deal with this dead city or even with the city be-
neath it. We went further !
Honeycombing the area under the first city, or Zandu,
as it was called, were endless passages that even the sand
had failed to reach. Then, on one of our many tours
of exploration, we stumbled upon a large chamber
wherein was the mouth of a tube leading to the second
buried city (Thista), which was much the same as the
first. Inhabited ages before Zandu, it had been found
and explored by the Zanduians, much as we had pene-
trated to their magnificent metropolis. The Thistaians,
too, boasted of an insatiable curiosity as to what lay
beneath them, only their tunnels ended in blank walls.
That is, all but one 1
This tube ceased its downward push just as the others .
had, but here nature took a hand in the proceedings.
Directly opposite the final rung of the iron ladder that
led to the second city was a seam opened by some for-
gotten quake. The aperture offered more than ample
room for the passage of a man, and here it was that Carr
and I found ourselves after our many trips through the
great city of Thista.
“Well, my boy, we’ve seen some of the many wonders
of man and we ought to be satisfied,” the scientist
chuckled, “but I have an uncontrollable desire to see
what nature has prepared for us. How about you?”
“I’m with you,” I replied, “but I can’t see how the old
lady can show us anything that will surpass these won-
ders above us.” How little I knew of that which lay
before me.
After switching our high-powered flash and pocketing
our weaker beacons, we set out on the trail. For hours
we followed the irregular passage as it pursued its rest-
less course. Huge caverns and bottomless pits were dis-
covered until at length we came to an abrupt end and
faced a blank wall.
Although we knew this would happen, we were disap-
pointed. But .Carr was a true scientist. Immediately he
began to tap the walls. To ascertain — what? What
could lie beyond those walls of stone except more caves ?
One wall gave forth a hollow sound that spoke of
space beyond. I was uninterested. Strange and beauti-
ful as the caves were, I had no desire to go further. I
was tired and hungry.
Carr, however, attacked the wall with his small bar as
though life itself depended upon it. Stretched full
length upon the floor, I watched him, my mind debating
upon the sanity of certain men of science.
And then his bar crashed through the thin partition.
Simultaneously with his cry of amazement, I sprang to
my feet. I had been tired but that was forgotten. To-
gether we threw ourselves against that yielding wall like
madmen, for the opening disclosed a dim patch of light
that rapidly grew in size as our bars tore into the stone.
I doubt whether steel itself could have resisted our
frantic efforts for long. In a short time the crack was
of sufficient width to permit us to squirm through. We
set foot on a pass, that at the first glimpse cried out the
presence of man. The light that had filtered through to
us came from a round glass container attached to the
opposite wall a bit to our left. Within lay a small piece
of metal-like substance that produced the light.
“Radium,” was Carr’s startled ejaculation.
During all this time we had used, off and on, compact
oxygen suppliers, for naturally this gas would be at a
premium at levels not connected with the outside at-
mosphere. In Zandu we had no need for them, nor in
Thista, for the most parts. We had rigged up a sys-
tem of ventilation by use of powerful fans that drove
out the dangerous gases and sucked in the surface air.
However, in the caves, it was necessary to don the oxy-
gen masks. Here, inspired by the signs of man, we
dared to remove the apparatus. We were rewarded by
refreshing draughts of pure air that were a Godsend
after the sultry breezes of the desert. Carr never knew
how it was possible.
The passage ended on our left, but to the right it con-
tinued until a sharp turn cut off our view. Three round
lights appeared in our range, alternating two on the left
and one on the right of the tunnel, spaced about twenty
feet apart.
Carr turned to me with wonder written in every line
of his bronzed face. “We certainly have found some-
thing this time,” he exclaimed. Around that corner must
lie even more. Come 1”
I needed no second invitation. The turn revealed an-
other avenue interlined with adjoining passages all
dotted with that unflickering radium light. A fortune
lay within easy reach. We hurried on.
Ahead of us appeared an opening a bit larger and
more brilliantly lighted than the passageway through
which we were hastening. As we drew nearer, it seemed
to be a main artery running through the maze of tun-
nels. Without a thought of what might lie beyond, we
swung into the channel, intending to trace it to its source.
Had we but taken the time to reconnoiter, that which
followed might have been less disastrous.
As it was, we rounded the curve and ran full tilt into
a party of six or seven heavily armed men hurrying
down the pass towards us. With a shout of warning,
the foremost warrior leveled his rather delicate rifle upon
us. Without a sound Carr slipped to the floor. There
had been no ear-splitting crash to indicate that a shell
had been fired, yet, an instant after the gun had been
aimed, my partner stretched his length upon the stone.
I was utterly dumbfounded. What manner of men were
these and what power did they employ to produce this
silent death? For it was death.
I whirled from the body and faced the coming squad.
One of their number had apparently struck the weapon
from the hands of the first and judging by his threaten-
ing gestures, was voicing his disapproval of the hasty
action. The tongue was unlike any I had ever heard.
Shrill cries and deep gutturals intermingled with sounds
not unlike notes of a song, comprised much of his
speech.
LUVIUM
709
Now that I recall, this would have been my opportu-
nity to make my escape. But no thought of flight entered
my head. I stood transfixed, staring at these strange
men, who could not and should not be. It was impossi-
ble, yet the lifeless body of Carr beside me confirmed
the verity of their presence.
Men such as these I had never seen, nor was their
apparel in any way familiar to me. All were upwards of
six feet tall with practically perfect features. Smooth,
unknotted muscles rolled beneath their white skin with
an ease that spoke of enormous strength.
Hanging from the waist to the knees was a skirt-like
garment of some strange metal. Covering the upper part
of the body was a sleeveless shirt of the same material,
studded with brilliant stones set in some unknown de-
sign. All but one were of the same pattern. A helmet-
like headdress, adorned with still more flashing gems, was
topped with delicate metal ornaments. Strangle, pointed
sandals, strapped to their feet, completed the outfit.
Each had a two-edged sword belted to his waist and
carried an implement that at the first glance I took to be
a short barreled rifle.
The second warrior, the one who boasted of a more
intricate, jeweled design and who had struck the weapon
from his fellow’s hands, ceased his bombardment- of
words and turned to me. He directed a sing-song volley
in my direction. I shook my head ; his efforts were as
meaningless to me as the songs of the birds. As he made
no attempt to bring into play his fatal weapon, I was en-
couraged to try my luck at speech.
It failed ! English, French, German and a smattering
of native jargon brought only a puzzled sign of
negation.
Evidently sensing that any further efforts at conver-
sation would be futile, the man turned and alternately
growled and sang a few commands to his warriors. Four
immediately hurried by me and disappeared up the pass
from which we had come. Two placed themselves at
my side. A gesture that could not be mistaken indi-
cated that I was to go with them. The silent but effec-
tive instrument grasped in their ready hands commanded
my profound respect.
The second warrior, without a doubt the leader of this
little squad, set off in the direction from which they had
but a moment before come racing to meet us. I followed
with my attentive guard. All that remained of Carr, a
scientist unequalled, lay in the passage awaiting the
pleasure of my captors.
What I was bound for and what new, undreamed of
experiences lay before me, I had no way of knowing.
D URING our brief march up this well-lighted pas-
sage and others, no attempt was made to confuse
me. Consequently I was able to mentally pic-
ture each turn and pass that we used. Perhaps some day
I might be able to retrace my steps and return to the
upper world.
As it was, we had passed three turns and through as
many runways, when a fourth curve brought us into a
spacious chamber. In the center of the room and sus-
pended from the low-hanging ceiling were some ten or
twelve chair-like objects. They resembled not a little an
overstuffed parlor seat equipped with foot and head
rests. Built into the right arm was a dial complete with
a movable pointer. Strange characters were inscribed
around the edge, much as the numbers en the face of a
clock. Protruding from the left arm was a small lever
so constructed as to be thrust forward and sideward into
either of the three notches cut in the metal base.
A more thorough examination disclosed the fact that
the chairs were fastened, not to the ceiling, but to one of
two overhead rails. This was done by means of a
rather short network of re-enforced steel rods that led to
a puzzling diamond shaped box, completing the connec-
tion.
Even as I studied this strange contrivance, a train of
four similar structures slipped in from an adjoining pas-
sage, coasting silently along on the second overhead
track. This then was their ingenious method of trans-
portation — clever adaptation of the monorail principle.
Each seat held a bejeweled warrior, who leaped from
the chair the instant the conveyance touched the landing
place. They sang excited questions and exclamations at
my guides and each in turn examined — what to them
must have been — my outlandish garb. Having gathered
the gist of the story, they hurried off down a corridor,
singing in a confusing discord.
My guides at once coupled four of the cabs together
and signed me to take the second seat. The leader set-
tled himself in the foremost compartment. I watched
him closely as he set the pointer and thrust the lever into
the first notch. Without the slightest tremor we glided
out into the corridor from which the rails were sus-
pended. Ignoring the second notch, our motorman
swung the lever into the third. Instantly we shot for-
ward with a breath-taking momentum that steadily in-
creased. It was impossible to estimate our terrific rate
of speed.
Although we had but fairly started when the car began
to lose speed, I knew that a tremendous distance had
been covered. Fortunately the stop was accomplished
with no sudden jerk or I could not have kept my place.
I learned later that the chairs, or Taumbs as they are
called, of the city were equipped with safety straps to
prevent such an accident. These carriers of ours were
but private cars to the mines and could not compare with
the luxurious city Taumbs. Only in principle were they
comparable.
Our stop was made in a chamber similar to that which
we had left, only far more elaborate. Here were several
landing stages, each with its own outlet. The problem of
returning cars was solved by making the rail a continu-
ous track that circled within its limits and returned along
the side of the incoming support. Each city or private
line adhered to this plan.
The transit lines of the metropolis were laid in tunnels
far beneath the narrow streets. Here, as I found later,
were three rails indicating the three speeds of the lever.
The first track carried the Taumbs, just setting out from
a station or landing. The moving of the handle into sec-
ond speed automatically switched the flyer over to the
middle track, where the rider was at liberty to travel
along at a moderate pace, or by means of the lever, take
advantage of the increased speed of the third rail. To
stop, the action is reversed. The dial set upon the desired
station controls all the mechanism. Numerous safety
devices added from time to time reduce the danger of
accidents to a minimum. This and more I learned in the
days that followed. Many of the wonderful inventions
and the unheard of developments of the Luviumians I
shall be forced to touch upon but lightly; others I shall
omit entirely as they have no bearing on my tale.
710
AMAZING STORIES
Our arrival created quite a stir among the throng mill-
ing about the platforms. They rushed upon me, chatter-
ing excitedly. Evidently I was a rare curiosity. Again
and again my captors were forced to repeat the story
of my capture. However, the inquisitive mob was much
more interested in my khaki outfit than in my personal
self. Every thread was traced and the crude patch on
my knee was gravely inspected. Cloth in this land was
apparently at a premium.
For the first time I noticed that, of all the people
grouped about me, not one boasted a single garment of
material resembling cloth as I knew it. All were clothed
in some strange, metal-like fabric.
One huge, muscular giant, who had gained the front
rank by the simple means of grasping those in front of
him and unceremoniously hurling them to either side,
took great pleasure in sinking his sinewy fingers into the
tender spots of my arms. At each grimace I made, he
burst into loud peals of laughter. When I sought to
discourage his advances, by firmly pushing him away, his
grin vanished and his features twisted into a ugly snarl.
He stood for a moment with his six-foot-four frame
towering threateningly over me before he charged.
Head down and arms outspread, he bore down on me,
bellowing with rage.
I simply doubled him up with a smash to the pit of
the stomach, following with a jab to the face. He
dropped to the floor without a sound. The opening had
been perfect for a man in any way nimble with his fists.
A deep silence fell over the astonished group as their
eyes flashed to the fallen warrior and back to me. Only
for an instant, however, for their song soon broke forth
in still greater discord than before. But no one at-
tempted to take up the giant’s cause.
He was roughly yanked to his feet and half dragged
and half carried away, but the look he shot me was so
full of hate and fury that it boded ill for me in the fu-
ture. I sincerely hoped that I had seen the last of him.
Had I but dreamed of the scurvy part he was to play in
my life, I would have settled scores with him then.
But I did not know. As we pushed through the
crowd, I could not help smiling at the readiness with
which a lane was opened for my passing. Was it fear
or respect ? I thought the latter, for it was hard to con-
nect the former emotion with those perfectly propor-
tioned bodies and the fighting faces of true warriors.
We passed from this hall to a still larger chamber
housing the finer cars of the City Taumbs. Here was
the landing stage for the carriers connecting with the
three tracked lines under the city proper.
Seating ourselves in the same order as on our previ-
ous ride, and fastening the safety belt of finely woven
metals, we waited our turn. The starting point is the
only place where one is held up for any length of time.
Once out on the rails, progress is never halted. Colli-
sions are impossible, due to the fact that a car cannot
attain a speed greater than that of the one preceding it.
There is no throttle arrangement, the power and speed
being obtained directly from the rail upon which one is
traveling. The rate of speed of the three tracks is un-
equal ; each track is faster than its predecessor. The car
in switching, obtains the velocity of the approaching
track before it swings over. Automatic devices prevent
the meeting of two cars at a switch. The momentum of
one is slightly checked the instant such a situation occurs
and the chair at once regains its normal speed.
Naturally I knew nothing of this at the time. In fact
my only thought was concerned with my fate at the
hands of these people. I had failed to note any open
hostility, save the brief encounter at the terminal. I
classed the man as an exception often found among all
races. He was a blustering, threatening individual, fond
of exploiting his power over a less impressive fellow
man. All the rest had expressed merely a natural curi-
osity as to my presence. That I could not understand
their questions was to them a sense of amazement.
The leader tried, by signs, to convey his thoughts, but
failed miserably. All that I could gather was the fact
that I was to be taken away from this place.
Out on the second track we switched over and gath-
ered speed. A much longer ride ensued at a fairly sick-
ening pace. Somewhere ahead a car rocketed into our
lane directly in front of us. Knowing nothing of the
automatic controls, I closed my eyes and waited for the
crash that did not come. For the remainder of the jour-
ney we sped along behind this careening chair.
Our shift from third to second was accomplished with-
out a sound. However, I thanked the maker of the sup-
porting harness as I felt my body thrown forward on
the straps. Over to first with another noticeable check
of speed, a sickening drop through an oblique passage
and our second ride was over. An attentive guard un-
fastened my safety belt and I stepped out, a bit shaky,
but ready for my next venture.
Falling in behind the second warrior, we filed into an
adjacent room, much smaller than that containing the
embarking platform. It was fairly well crowded, and as
it had but one entrance, I was debating the significance
of such a move, when the entire structure, men in-
cluded, suddenly shot skyward. Caught off guard, I
sprawled flat on my face, which brought for h roars of
laughter from the entire group.
Swearing softly, I struggled to my feet. I had been
floored by an elevator 1 This elevator could easily have
accommodated a hundred men and its speed was unthink-
able. Only by standing with my feet well apart, could I
remain in an upright position.
An instant of flight and the hoist slid to a noiseless
stop — the halt not comparable with the start; still it was
abrupt enough to bring on that feeling of extreme light-
ness of the stomach.
Fully half the crowd left at this stage of the journey,
but we remained within. Others entered, however. I
was prepared for the next upward jerk and managed to
keep my feet when it came, but not without difficulty. It
was my turn to laugh at the expectant onlookers and I
did. My head captor smiled back and it suddenly struck
me that his was a pleasing personality. Perhaps I was
not in bad hands after all. Many around me had likable
faces and few, if any, showed visible signs of cruelty.
Unfortunately, none of the first were in command.
We disembarked at the second landing in a corridor
that was like none that I had ever seen. Well lighted
but without any noticeable glare, it fairly cried out its
splendor. Faultless marble of many different hues, per-
fectly blended, made up the walls and arched ceiling.
Everywhere were hundreds of sparkling stones set into
the wall in complicated designs. The radium lights were
housed in containers of the most astonishing construc-
tion. Designed and constructed along most elaborate
lines, they were placed in artistic groups and threw their
rays from all angles with equal intensity.
LUVIUM
711
The floor itself was worthy of distinct mention. It was
movable and laid in seven sections. We had stepped out
on the non-moving or stationary stretch of flooring that
adjoined the walls. Each succeeding portion of the floor
was geared a bit faster than the' one nearer the wall. The
center section contained row after row of upholstered
benches that slipped by fairly rapidly. From our posi-
tion, we stepped from section to section, until we reached
the seats. Once there, one could venture either way
from the center and reach the stationary floor at the
sides of the corridor.
After an easy ride, we left the seats and entered an
opening at the right. From that moment began the most
confusing bit of our travel, that I have ever witnessed.
I gathered that I was to be given an audience before a
person, or group of persons, of the greatest importance.
I was only mildly interested, for of more concern to me
were the many strange and bewildering contrivances that
made up this peculiar city. More than that, I wished
to see the city itself.
But that was not to be for some little time. Hour
after hour we were forced to wait in some anteroom
that merely led to another anteroom, which meant more
waiting. Guards were everywhere and personages fairly
weighted down with priceless jewels were hurrying to
and fro. The very air seemed laden with gigantic prob-
lems that must be settled on the moment.
I watched one group deep in the throes of some dis-
turbing complexity. Solemn, careworn faces were these,
and I wondered if the fate of the nation lay on their
shoulders. I learned later that the position of a certain
object, apparently used as a desk, was out of line. A
passing servant or slave solved the difficulty by moving
it a foot to the right. The group disbanded and the
world was saved.
I smiled. It was ever thus. How seriously the people
of the world, whether on the surface or below, regard
themselves. I was about to delve further into the
futility of such viewpoints, when the door slid open and
we were motioned inward.
T HE door, itself, was peculiar. It was made up of
two sections, a top and a bottom. These slid into
nicely fitted grooves in the ceiling and floor re-
spectively. Beyond the opening was a short passage
running to the left at the end of which stood another
closed panel.
A purple light suddenly flashed on and off somewhere
above us. My watchful guard had dwindled to one at
this stage of the proceedings. With one court attendant,
we stood there until the signal flickered again.
It was obviously a sign of readiness, for the courtier
at once placed us in a position with our backs to the
entrance singing as he did this, a beautiful selection. I
felt the door slip back gently.
The three of us then backed slowly into the room until
the door was cleared. Immediately it slid back into
place without a sound. It was composed of several
parts, all fitting perfectly in a circular formation.
My guides at once flung themselves flat on their faces
and commenced a backward crawl. I remained erect,
a haughty smile of disdain spreading over my face. For
no man would I place myself in such a ridiculous posi-
tion. Others thought otherwise. A score of hands fell
upon me, flinging me painfully to the floor. Angered at
this treatment, I sought to regain my feet, but was thor-
oughly discouraged by keepers of court etiquette. A
dozen heavy fists left me content to remain in my pros-
trate position.
A hush fell over the room as I ceased my rebellious
efforts. Evidently I was under a searching examina-
tion.
A thin, scratchy voice broke the silence and I was
lifted to a sitting posture. Another command brought
me about to face the author of the grating voice.
Still seated on the floor, I directed my eyes to the one
who demanded such humiliating subjection. I expected
to see a marvelous creature, perfect in every way. fit to
lead this outstanding race. . . . Instead there sat before
me a puny man, hoary with age. His leathery face was
marked many times with the hideous stamp of time.
Only in his eyes did he show any redeeming feature of
one in command. Hard and cruel as they were, one
could sense the power that lay behind them. They spoke
of ages of experience, of absolute rule, backed by a brain
fully capable of handling any situation that might
arise.
The man, himself, did not impress me as much as did
his position. He reclined in a massive chair actually
suspended in mid-air. I searched in vain for the sup-
porting structure or wire that must hold the throne in
place. There was nothing; yet it rested there without
a sign of movement.
A series of small push buttons were built into the
left arm of the seat. On the right was an instrument
faintly resembling a small radio horn. I learned later
that it was an order machine that issued signed state-
ments to any part of the building or city. All that was
necessary was to speak the thought and the dispatch was
delivered.
Between the monarch’s perch and our party was a huge
horseshoe-shaped table closed at our end. Some thirty
or forty richly trapped men of rank were seated around
this imposing desk. Obviously it was a cabinet of some
kind, but I doubted their executive power with this over-
bearing creature in command. Stationed about the room
was a score of attendants and guards.
The enthroned man was speaking and apparently at
me. I shook my head. The fellow literally went mad 1
He screamed and growled in the most outrageous man-
ner. Proffered explanations were ignored. He pressed
a button at his left and the entire support shot forward
over the table to halt a few paces from me. There, with
his face livid with rage, he directed his song of hate full
into my face. He had worked himself into that state
where I looked to see him froth at the mouth, when
the man seated at the table's end on the left rose to his
feet. He spoke in a voice that was full and clear and
altogether extremely pleasant.
The suspended man swung his chair around facing the
speaker. Only for a moment did he listen before he cut
him short. He screamed and howled at the giant who
seemingly had questioned his words. Cruel and harsh
were his reprimands for the man at the table paled
slightly. But he made no excuses. As he stood there
with his shoulders back and head erect taking the un-
fair rebukes as he did, he aroused my deepest admira-
tion.
Tiring of this, the enraged chief whirled his seat
back to the original position and barked an order to a
ready page. A door shot open and a huge warrior
backed into the chamber. After completing the disgust-
712
AMAZING STORIES
ing ceremony, he turned around. My eyes went wide as
I recognized the fellow. He, whom I had bested at the
terminal, stood before me. Before speaking he cast a
crooked smile in my direction. Scarce a dozen words
had fallen from his lips, when my guide gave a gasp of
surprise. The theme of the recital was no doubt based
upon me, but evidently something was amiss according
to the actions of the man at my side. He shifted about
uneasily and from time to time muttered under his
breath until the oration was at an end.
He was the next to be called upon, but from the first
it was apparent that his words carried little weight with
the Tribune. Suspicious glances, that had at first been
bent only on me, now shifted to take in the two of us.
He was in a bad hole and he knew it, but a fighting man
seldom has an agile tongue. As he faltered along, his
statements were repeatedly questioned, until he was
forced to resume his place beside me.
Our case was rapidly coming to a close. The aged
ruler rose from his suspended throne and pronounced
the verdict. Severe indeed it must have been to cause
the man at my side to sink to the floor in a crushed heap.
Many were the stern nods of commendation but not
from all. One there was who voiced his disapproval:
the huge fellow who had dared to cross his master but
a short time before. Springing to his feet he sang his
controversy in no uncertain terms. The effect on the
astonished dwarf was far from pleasant.
He gave vent to his fury by racing his chair up and
down the room. So great was his agitation that he ac-
tually shook as he poured forth his words in wild con-
fusion. Unmoved by this outburst, the rash noble
fought back word for word. This fiery discourse was
brief, but it appeared to bring about a change of sen-
tence. Whether it was better or worse, I had no wjy
of telling. Still growling angrily the King brought the
audience to a close by flashing from the room. Still
seated in his chair he shot through a sliding panel high
up on the wall. The support remained in suspension as
long as it was in sight.
Under guard I was led from the court, back to the
moving corridor and the Taumb’s Station. My third
jump was brief. Within a very short time I found
myself in another palace-like edifice in the presence of
the noble who had defied his Emperor. His uncon-
trollable curiosity was hardly appeased by my failure
to comprehend his numerous queries.
I must thank this very natural quality for my knowl-
edge of the Luvium language. Laedi, my defender, was
determined to learn my history. I was equally anxious
to know how I stood with these underground people.
With the help of Vuotd, my appointed tutor, we pro-
gressed rapidly.
Strange is the tongue of Luvium. I marvel that I
grasped as much as I did.
The base of the Luvium speech is laid on fourteen
letters or sounds. Seven of the sounds corresponding to
our vowel tones, two consonants not unlike M and Z
of the English language are added, are given in — I can
call it nothing else but — song. Each vowel as it goes up
the scale has a different meaning at each pitch. Thus
“A” sung in the tone of C is entirely different from “A”
given in the D pitch. It is possible in this way to form
parts and often complete words simply by changing the
pitch of one or more vowels. I use the term vowel solely
because there is no other medium to convey my thought.
They are vowel-like only in sound; their use is vastly
more complicated.
The sounds that I will call consonants remotely re-
semble our letters of B, D, G, K, L, T, and V. These
are not given as notes of the scale but are spoken in any
pitch below the lowest vowel tone that the speaker so
desires. Their use is not as varied as the musical seven ;
often a complete sentence or series of sentences can be
given by means of vowels alone.
The written language is built up out of the spoken
tongue. Fourteen strange characters are used to de-
signate the fourteen letters of their alphabet. The sym-
bols or letters are inscribed upon lined paper divided
into sections of eight lines running across the sheet. The
letter is placed between the space that represents the
desired pitch of the vowel. A line runs from it to the
next character, which is most likely located in a different
space. Often the same figure follows but in a higher
or lower note. Thus a word might appear in this
manner :
The musical score of the outer world might be favor-
ably compared to it, only the Luviumians do not place
any character on a line; all are set in spaces.
All consonants as they are used are placed directly be-
low the bottom line of the score. The end of a connect-
ing line denotes the end of a word. A sheet of this pe-
culiar writing is read from the bottom up, commencing
at the lower left hand corner and running to the right.
Instead of beginning the contents back on the left, the
thought continues directly above. Each line is alter-
nated in this manner until the top of the sheet is reached.
A new page, regardless of the preceding order, always
starts at the left, as do titles and headings.
One can easily understand the difficulties connected
with such a language. A person without a musical
sense would be practically speechless. Although I was
able to hold up this end of it, it merely provided a back-
ground for the complications that followed.
I was free from the drudgery of instruction at the
end of the first Zuae, the Luvium equivalent to our two
months, but I had a great deal to learn even then.
Votta did much towards the furthering of my knowl-
edge.
I HAD met Votta at Aov, second meal of the work
period. I had scarcely seated myself when the girl
entered. Perfect as are all women of this lost race,
she seemed to me infinitely superior to any of her sex.
Possibly I am prejudiced. I only know my heart did
queer things the moment she entered.
After she had taken the place opposite Laedi, her
father, the meal commenced. Although I have passed
through this process many times, I can never quite over-
come my feeling of wonder at the simplicity of it all.
The diner is seated at an oval table, upon which appears
nothing but a row of push buttons at his left. Pressing
a button sets into motion an intricate device that de-
LUVIUM
713
livers a portion of the desired food up through the table.
Square metal dishes are the standard type of containers.
These are in place beneath the surface of the table and
are snapped through a trap at the proper signal. Only
one implement is used in carrying the food to the mouth ;
a curved metal utensil at one end of which is a spoon-
like instrument and at the other a two-pronged fork.
All foods not in liquid state are sliced into uniform
morsels easily handled with the fork. Food in a con-
densed form was once the accepted edible but it proved
unsatisfactory and was ordered out. Teeth and certain
digestive glands were put out of use and threatened to
become rudimentary as time went on. This they did not
desire. First in the minds of the Luviumians is the wel-
fare of their bodies. For that reason have they reached
such physical perfection.
At the completion of the meal the dishes are snapped
back under the table to be prepared for the next eating
period. Food is delivered by tube on order direct from
the manufacturing plant. The necessary ingredients are
taken from the earth and converted into food by a pro-
cess that to them is simple and natural. Indeed, Laedi
was bewildered and not a little skeptical when I told
him about our methods of obtaining sustenance.
After rising from the table, we adjourned to a room
that was evidently a reception chamber of some sort.
Not a single piece of furniture was in sight. I learned
that if one desired to rest, he had but to press a con-
venient button arrangement and a luxurious couch would
spring up out of the floor — most amusing, but very prac-
tical also. When not in use, they were out of the way.
Amusement was in order. Built into the wall was a
glass covered compartment about three feet square. The
manipulating of a dial set into the arm of a vanishing
chair caused lifelike figures to appear behind the glass
and entertain. Musical numbers on strange instruments
and several short bits that were possibly plays made up
the program. I was fascinated. No doubt an advanced
form of television was employed to produce this effect.
The actors were not seen as flat shadows on a screen
but as living people. Even natural colors were apparent.
Because as yet I was in ignorance of the spoken word,
this type of entertainment soon lost its appeal.
The entrance of Vuotd interrupted my musings. It
was the signal for the beginning of my first lesson in
Luvium speech.
As the days slipped by, I grew more and more pro-
ficient in the language of Luvium. There came a time
when I could actually carry on a short conversation,
falteringly and gropingly to be sure. It was then that
I began to question my host in regard to the many
wonders of his country. Mainly I desired to know of
the origin of this buried race. This was one of my first
queries put to Laedi. He responded as best he could.
“I know little of that,” he told me. “Save through
the age-old legends handed down from our Fathers,” he
told me. “Records, such as there might be, have been
lost, due to the countless controversies that have arisen
in the past. Often have we reverted to the primitive
state. No less than four times has the city of Luvium,
itself, been destroyed. It is whispered that eons ago this
city was situated, as you say your cities are, on top of the
Voilt (earth) that holds us prisoners. A huge ball of fire
moving in space furnished light. All was space but the
Voilt beneath.
“Many are there who scoff at this story for, reason
they, what could prevent the people or the entire city
from floating out into this void and colliding with
the gigantic ball of fire ? It is thought that the magnetic
force that holds us in an upright position now, could not
be of sufficient strength to continue to act in this ca-
pacity at the surface.
“Also there is the theory that a huge transparent cov-
ering of great thickness protected the city from the in-
tense cold that held the earth in its grip. We base this
belief upon that substance that to this day extends dome-
shaped over our homes. Others think otherwise, pro-
ducing equally confusing hypotheses, till one knows not
what to believe.
“The Oduba theory continues to declare that there
came a time when the earth became convulsed with ter-
rifying tremors that threw countless tons of ice and
earth over us until we became as we now are. Light
and heat were supplied by means of the breaking down
of Bamdb (radium), discovered and perfected by our
ancestors. The life-sustaining element which we breathe
had been manufactured long before the catastrophe made
its appearance, for it was. needed under the protective
covering. Life continued much as before the Voilt sur-
rounded us. That is the belief.”
“But,” I demanded, “how is it that you have never
attempted to find your way back to the outer world?”
“And why should we ?” he asked in turn. “Life here
is all that we desire. Then, too, if the theory is true,
what advantage would it be for us to return to where
lies only ice and unthinkable cold? Here we are con-
tent and here we shall remain.”
He asked me questions. My answers were often most
confusing to him. He did not understand much of what
I said, but he did not ridicule my statements. Crude, he
thought, were most of our mechanical works, often
pointing out similar Luvium devices, which I had to
confess were far superior to our own.
Electricity was developed in such a manner that it
seemed unbelievable to me. Perfect understanding of
this great force and its unlimited possibilities was theirs.
Its use was a thousand times more variable than that
of our meager world. In comparison with the Luvium-
ians, we have but scratched the surface of electrical
appliances.
Great as is its power, radium is vastly more efficient.
The scarcity of this metal prevents it from permanently
replacing electricity. Only in lighting is it used to any
great extent. The Taumbs, the corridors, and countless
other Luvium inventions receive their energy from the
magnetic wonder.
Naturally the inclination to understand all that had
passed within the royal chambers the day I was taken
captive, surpassed even my craving for Luvium history.
If I were to suffer some horrible death, I wished to
know it. The actions of the enraged Dedul, ruler of the
city, had been far from pleasing. It was Laedi who told
me, touching but lightly on his courageous stand.
“Baku,” he said, “our Dedul, upon the testimony of '
Zemd, his favorite, sentenced you to one Zuae at hard
labor in the mines. This means the actual handling of
the radium ore, which causes slow death at the first
touch. Zemd, the warrior whom you humbled at' the
station, swore that you had conversed with your captors.
That in itself aroused suspicion and added weight to his
further remarks. He was positive that you were a spy
from Luva, with which we are at war.”
714
AMAZING STORIES
“And what might Luva be?” I asked.
“Had I the slightest notion that you were not what
you seem, that remark in itself would suffice to allay my
suspicion. Know you that in this world are four other
cities differing but little from ours. Not as long as mem-
ory lasts have all five been at peace with one another.
Always has war been waging and always will it continue.
A race at peace soon over-populates its immovable boun-
daries. War is more desirable. Thus ”
“And what could I accomplish if I were a spy?” I
interrupted him, bringing him back to the question.
Laedi attempted a rather lengthy explanation : “Within
the limits of our dominion are endless passageways built
to make possible the mining of the metals upon which
our lives depend. In these burrows are fought, for
the most part, our many battles. It is possible to tunnel
. from a near-by city to these avenues. Seldom do the
tremors of such work fail to register upon our delicate
detectorscopes, but even they are not infallible. It is our
greatest danger.
“You were not as fortunate. Your break into the
mines of Zemd was instantly detected, causing your
speedy capture by our alert sentinals. I regret exceed-
ingly the death of your companion, but it could not be
avoided. Often the fate of the city rests upon the rap-
idity with which a detachment is thrown into action. It
was thought at the time, that you were but an advance
guard of an attacking party.
“I now think otherwise, but not so Baku. It was for
this reason he sought to destroy you.”
i “But your actions ; why did you do as you did ?”
“It was because in you I saw something the others did
not. Possibly there is a race such as you describe. I
do not understand, but I believe.
“I merely questioned the Dedul’s logic in not studying
you more closely. Long have I been a thorn in Baku’s
side. He would greatly relish an opportunity to do away
with me but that he dare not do, for I am next in line
for the throne. Great is my favor with the people, while
his is rapidly diminishing. His actions are being ques-
tioned more openly each succeeding day. I am con-
vinced that my ascent to the throne would be looked
upon with rejoicing by the masses but that cannot be as
yet. First must he die.
“My intervention brought about the usual outburst.
But because of my position he can do little but rebuke
me as he has done continually in the past. Even his
words he must choose carefully. Thus it was that he
withdrew the sentence and placed you in my care. Pos-
sibly he believed that you would seek to harm Luvium
in some way while you were my prisoner. I would
be responsible. Then indeed would he have an excuse
to do that which he has long wished to do. Fortunately
you have chosen to remain passive.
“At the end of the third Zuae you are to again ap-
pear before him and your fate will then be determined.
I can do little for you should he rule against you. In
the end, his word is law.”
My next hearing was still a good half Zuae, or month,
away and as I was free to come and go as I pleased, I
spent a good part of the time exploring the city. Often
was I in the company of Votta.
Since the time she had sat beside me at my first meal
she was always in my mind. I knew little of love nor
did I dare allow myself to think of any such possi-
bility. Who was I to speak of such matters before this
proud beauty of lost Luvium? I was happy with
her companionship throughout most of my stay. It
was my fear of losing her entirely that stilled my heart,
for not even in my wildest dreams did I dream that
Votta would return my love. No, I reasoned it were
better to continue as we were, than risk losing her
entirely.
I T was upon Laedi’s suggestion that I donned the
simple costume worn by the inhabitants. In this
way I would appear less conspicuous as I went about
in public. Worked into the metal of my trappings was
the bejeweled crest of the House of Laedi. This I took
as a great honor, and rightly so. For was I not a pris-
oner under his care? If he had wished to do so, he could
have thrown me into the pits to await in chains the com-
ing of the fourth Zuae and my second hearing. He was
responsible for my keeping and would remain so until
the Dedul relieved him of this duty. I was not even
under guard, though I doubt if I could have escaped,
even had I tried. All the mines were under private con-
trol, and in order to gain access to them, one must be
either a laborer or he must carry the owners’ permit.
Once within the mines of Zemd, I was positive I could
find my way to the break which the unlucky scientist
and I had made. But Zemd was the noble who had in-
vented the damning testimony, that laid me open to sus-
picion ! I could hope for little mercy from him.
So it was that I set aside for the present any plan of
escape and devoted myself to an intense study of my
surroundings. Strange and indescribable are the many
peculiar contrivances in Luvium. They had surpassed
the outer world in nearly everything. And it was not sur-
prising. Their civilization was centuries old at the time
the outer man first shed his tail and dropped from the
trees. Even had I proof, many things that I might
make known to you would be received much as are
figments of an unbalanced mind. You would not under-
stand. It is to avoid ridicule that I tell you only of the
Luvium wonders necessary in the furthering of my ac-
count.
The city is unique in itself. It is laid out in diamond-
shaped blocks the majestic buildings are fashioned
much like those of the ancient Romans. Much has been
added, however, in the way of elaborate cornices,
jeweled towers, and fantastic dome-shaped roofs — all
tending to produce a city extraordinary. Its height
cannot be estimated, for much of the structure is far
below the rock upon which the city rests. Adventurous
turrets shooting skyward tend to break the monotony
of uniform height.
Everywhere are cleverly concealed radium containers
placed to bathe the fairy-like city in a soft warm glow.
Few, however, do more than accentuate the ominous
gloom that hangs just over the highest of the pointed
towers. I often wondered if there actually was an arti-
ficial covering for this lost race somewhere up in that
threatening darkness. If so how had it withstood the
enormous pressure it had been subjected to during the
countless ages? Might it not crack some day under the
strain and bury Luvium under the tons of rock that bore
down upon it ? Questions such as these I was forced to
answer as best I could in my own mind. The Luvium-
ians accepted their situation, and, outside of a few
vague attempts at analyzing their surroundings, were
content. Greatest of all problems confronting their
LUVIUM
715
men of science was that of wresting an existence from
the rock in which they lived.
This they had done for ages but were continually
searching for newer and better methods, forcing each
element to do more than it had in the past. Always
there was the fear that some day the earth would fail
their groping tunnels and with this in mind they looked
after the conservation of their material. In this way
they had build up their wonderful food producers and
the perfect atmosphere plants that were in use. Hardly
a chip fell from the powerful drills that was not utilized
in some way.
It was while in quest of the life-giving elements that
they discovered and perfected many of their most amaz-
ing inventions. These I learned to use and enjoy during
the brief month before Baku summoned me to court
once more.
It was the thought of that appearance that dimmed
somewhat my appreciation for the new marvels. The
day came all too soon and with it came the expected
notice. Laedi, Votta, and I had just seated ourselves be-
fore the entertainer after the third meal when the order
machine at my host’s side flashed its message. It was
simply a reminder that the Dedul sat on the morrow to
pass sentence on the prisoner of Laedi. There was little
need for it. In the days past I had often speculated as
to my fate. Although it had not been a subject of con-
versation, I felt that Laedi and Votta were as much
concerned about it as I was. Perhaps more so. They
knew their King better than I did. The fact that I had
won favor with the former had not passed unnoticed;
and it did not please the Dedul.
Perhaps it was best that I knew nothing of the fears
that gripped the two, or I might not have passed my last
night as calmly as I did. Many were the daring escapes
I planned to elude my captors but I soon discarded all.
It would be impossible to fight my way alone through
the well-guarded mines of Zemd to the entrance to the
caves.
After a time I dropped into a troubled sleep during
the course of which I pictured myself enduring many
terrible deaths. The one that persisted in spite of my-
self was the illusion in which I was strapped before an
instrument that slowly, with untold agonies, dissolved
my body inch by inch until my eyes alone were left. Be-
fore these appeared the figure of Baku, strangely re-
sembling a living skeleton, advancing with a white-hot
iron to remove these organs. Helpless in that awful
state known only in dreams, I would watch him ap-
proach. Then as the glowing iron moved forward to
blind me, I would awake with a scream, shaking with
terror.
I found myself after one such hallucination, sitting
straight up in bed staring before me with unseeing eyes.
Gradually, as I began to dimly perceive the objects of
the room, I made out the form of Laedi standing at my
side. He had come to take me to my doom, for I had
slept through the awaking song that calls all Luvium to
another day. Upon his face was not the slightest sign
of the doubts and fears that I now realize must have
been racing through his mind. Nor did he express the
slightest emotion, as we sped under the city to the wait-
ing court room, choosing to speak only of trivial matters.
My entrance was much as the first had been. All
was as before, except that my captor was not at my side.
I wondered how he had fared at the hands of his
Emperor. Had he been disposed of, or had he, too,
been released on parole until such a time as this ? I did
not know for no one had told me.
Baku, himself, hung threateningly before me in his
strange chair. This feat of apparently defying gravity,
I had learned, was accomplished simply by means of a
complicated set of powerful magnets, combined with a
confusing display of radium activity. I say I learned,
but as in the case of many other marvels of this land,
I did not understand.
It was enough that he was there looking for all the
world like the grinning skeleton of my dreams, ready
to deal with me as only he could.
As before, my case was heard, including the lying
words of the mine owner, Zemd. Only his story had
been improved upon with the passing of time, until it
was nearly perfect. This time I was given an opportu-
nity to plead my case personally. So it was in the face of
overwhelming odds that I rose and addressed the ca-
daverous Monarch.
“Ruler of Luvium,” I began, “I speak to you in your
own tongue, which I was unable to do during my first
hearing. Only through Laedi’s teaching has this been
made possible.
“I am not of Luva, nor had I ever heard of such a
city, until I had learned enough of the language. I am
of another world as unlike yours as the sun is unlike the
earth. Upon the surface of the Voilt that surrounds you
lie cities and countries of which you do not dream. Many
are they in number placed in all parts of the globe.
Here I have lived ”
“Stop!” screamed the repulsive creature now on his
feet, “Cease this idle babbling ! Think you that you can
confuse the Great Baku, mightiest of rulers of Luvium,
with meaningless words and lying statements? Fool!
Liar! Only the most ignorant, weak-minded of peoples
would dare bring such blasphemy before the highest of
men. Cities above the Voilt? Impossible! Know you
that life such as you picture cannot exist? Countless
ages ago our scientists proved this once accepted belief
to be groundless. That some of us still persist in the
lie in the face of undeniable fact is proof that insanity,”
and he shot an accusing glance at Laedi, “still exists in
our perfect race.
“This must be wiped out for the good of all Luvium.
First,” he turned to me, “you will go ; then others 1”
There could be no mistake as to his meaning.
“To the interests,” he continued, “of science I give
this man. The cause of dementia must be found. The
Dedul decrees thus.”
But he counted not on Leadi. Out of his chair in an
instant the loyal noble, white with fury, sang a most fit-
ting answer to the thinly veiled accusations.
“Baku,” he cried. “Long have we called you Dedul,
the mighty, and as many times, have we cursed the fate
that placed you on the throne. A child could have ruled
as well. Many are the hideous blunders that have had
their origin in that spectacular chair of yours; not the
least outrageous being this attitude towards Adu, the
stranger. You look for insanity. You need not look
far for there in ”
But he got no further. The Dedul whirled about
and faced the man who dared utter such treason.
“Enough,” he shrieked. “Too long have I been len-
ient with you, Laedi. Today, you have passed all
bounds. You forget I am Dedul.”
716
AMAZING STORIES
“The King forgets — ” began Laedi, but he went un-
heard.
Once again Baku roared his commands.
"Return the rash noble to his chambers under guard.
He will remain there until I wish to judge him.
“Conduct the stranger to First Confinement where
he will await the pleasure of the men of science. That
is all 1”
It was enough. Disarmed, but with head erect, Laedi
strode from the room at the head of his guard. I was
taken through the moving corridors to a dimly lighted
cell far beneath the palace. The door slid shut and I
was left alone in the narrow chamber.
My thoughts ran wild. What devilish torture was in
store for me? It would be something worthy of the
crafty beast who had dared the wrath of the people by
censuring their favorite. To the men of science! What
could it mean ? Perhaps— -but what was that. From the
shadows at my back came the faintest of sounds. Pivot-
ing about I beheld an unadorned warrior charging vic-
iously upon me. In his upraised hand he clutched a
slender steel bar.
W ITH the quickness of thought I flung myself
against the wall. The weapon whistled harm-
lessly by my head and crashed against the door. As he
turned to renew the attack, the fellow sought my face
and at the instant his eyes went wide.
"The captive,” he muttered and lowered the rod. With
a cry I sprang forward. There before me stood the man
who had taken me prisoner in Zemd’s Mines.
“What do you here?” I cried, and at my words he
stepped back.
“Are you not he whom I took before Baku these
many Zuaes past?” he asked.
“The same,” I replied.
“Then how do you speak in the tongue which you
seemed not to know at that time?”
I explained as briefly as I could and then repeated my
question.
“That,” said he, “is easily told. On that unlucky day
the Dedul ruled that I be turned over to the medical
men. Since that hour I have lived in this cell awaiting
their call.”
“But who are these dreaded men by whose hands we
are fated to die?” I asked.
“It is but one of Baku’s frightful schemes,” he re-
plied. "Ravaging the poorer section of Luvium is a dis-
ease that has been thought incurable. The Dedul de-
sires to conquer it, as he has all other things, so he pre-
sents laboratory material to his Doctors in the form of
living men. Those who have displeased him are in-
jected with the sickness and as they suffer, its many
stages are carefully studied. When the patient dies, the
next is brought on. I am next and then you follow.
Pray that I live long, as I have prayed for those that
have passed before me.”
So that was it 1 And I was helpless 1
Inch by inch I went over my cramped quarters just
as Latvu, my cell mate did. Ceiling, walls and floor were
all of steel as was the sliding door. The only opening
was the barred ventilator a half foot square. It was
from here that Latvu had wrested his crude weapon with
which he had nearly brained me.
For an instant I wished he had. But then an age-
old urge to live surged up within me. I racked my brain
for some plan to escape. My presence served to revive
slightly my hopeless companion and together we plotted
and planned for hours at a time.
We were interrupted by the sliding back of a panel
of the door through which a tray of steaming foods was
inserted. Our provider lingered a moment to inquire
about our health; a jest that to him was uproariously
funny but carried little humor for us. After he had re-
tired, we busied ourselves with the meager fare. A few
squares of solid material and a container of red liquid,
comprised our feast. It was the sipping of the colored
fluid that brought me to my feet with a cry of delight.
Latvu, certain that I had gone mad, gripped his im-
provised weapon firmly and listened as I outlined the
crazy scheme that had entered my head. Slowly his
hand relaxed and he, too, jumped to the floor as I fin-
ished.
“Impossible,” he cried. “Yet we can accomplish noth-
ing by venturing nothing. Come, we will make ready.”
The carrying out of my project was impossible with-
out the presence of our jailor. Hours dragged by with
terrible slowness as we waited his coming. We had al-
most given up hope when the man made his appearance
with the tray of food. Immediately we went into ac-
tion.
No sooner had the fellow deposited his burden when
there fell upon his ears horrible cries and wails from
within the cell. Cautiously, he peered through the panel
to gaze upon one of the prisoners breathing his last.
Upon his upturned breast was a slowly widening splotch
of red that told only too well that dreadful story. Near
the door, sunk in a broken heap, was the second prisoner
uttering cries of terror.
The man hesitated whether or not to carry the report
back through the long passages to the main guard, or
enter and investigate. He decided on the latter for
there seemed but little danger. W as he not armed ?
Accordingly, sword in hand, he shot back the door
and stepped into the room to examine the lifeless hulk.
Latvu suddenly ceased his lamentations and leaped to his
feet. The steel bar swung down and caught the hapless
man square, crushing his skull like an eggshell.
I rose to a sitting position and grinned. Our drink
. had served us well, but for what purpose ? Could we
hope to win our way out of the palace? And if we did,
what then ? Once out in the massive city we might elude
capture for some time, but in the end they would find
us. That, we both agreed, was better than lying help-
less in this cage.
I donned the trappings of the fallen warrior, pulling
the headdress well down over my face. With any luck
at all I might pass as a follower of the House of Baku.
Latvu’s case was different; until he found a way to
change harnesses, he would be instantly spotted.
But we must risk this. Thus it was that a king’s
serving man and an unarmed companion stepped out into
the corridor bound for the nearest Taumb’s Station.
Latvu was well acquainted with the pits of the Dedul,
having served his first ten Zuaes as a fighting man under
the King. His knowledge enabled us to hug the little-
used passages as we hurried on.
We had almost reached the room wherein lay the
Taumbs, when a shout came from our rear. Turning,
we discovered three warriors rapidly overhauling us.
Capture seemed certain. Directly ahead lay the motor-
chairs and the attendants. With my confederate weap-
LUVIUM
717
onless, we could not hope to overcome the Taumb’s
Guard nor could we battle our way back to the ques-
tionable safety of the pits. It was useless to run, so
we stood our ground. I faced the foremost Luvium
.with a forced grin that belied my sinking heart.
“Whence go you,” he called showing less agitation than
I had expected. “And what means this man here?”
“I do but take the prisoner from Confinement One to
Confinement — Ah — Four.” I faltered, “Upon the De-
dul’s order,” I added hastily.
“I am sorry,” he exclaimed, “to have troubled you. I
had hoped you were bound for the quarters of Luu,
head of the Twelfth Guard. We have lost our way,
being but new men from the House of Dvat serving for
the first time under Baku. However, we are certain that
it is not far away. Perhaps you can direct us.”
“That I can,” I lied. “Take the first pass on the
right as you turn back and follow it to the second main
arterial. Turn left here and it will lead you to Luu’s
quarters.”
A brief thanks and they were gone. We breathed
once more.
Latvu chuckled. “Now all we must do is to convince
the Taumb’s watchers that we have a right to leave the
Palace, produce our passes from thin air and we are
free.”
“And that we cannot do standing here,” I reminded
him. “More inquisitive parties might question us as to
the exact location of Confinement Four. That you must
admit would baffle us.”
“Come then,” said he. “Better to die in a fair fight
than for the glory of science.”
And we strode boldly into the compartment. It
boasted of some eight or ten indifferent warriors.
Straight to the chairs prepared for out-going traffic we
made our way, assuming a matter-of-fact manner that
hid our fluttering hearts. Without haste we joined two
cars and were about to seat ourselves when a sleepy
guard sauntered up and lazily requested our passes. Act-
ing on impulse, I busied myself with three other car-
riers, hooking them up to the original two.
“We await the rest of our party who bear our per-
mits,” I explained, indicating the chairs. “They are
three and will arrive shortly.”
Satisfied, the man turned and started back to the
bench upon which lolled his fellows. Slowly, seemingly
unconcerned, I climbed to the foremost car and adjusted
my safety belts. Latvu had already done this, for he
was quick to catch my daring plan. There we sat await-
ing our mythical companions until the guard reached a
point far enough away to make sure that he could not
impede our escape.
Then I slammed the lever over and we shot forward,
followed by the cries of the men behind us. Out into
second and over to third we flew, leaving the Palace
far behind. I set the dial on Laedi’s Station and turned
to grin at Latvu. His answering grimace was most
complimentary. Our success, so far, was astounding.
How much further we could go before our luck failed
I dared not estimate.
Outside of our visit to Laedi I had no plans for
the future. First must I learn from him how much
he was to suffer on my account. Then, too, there was
Votta.
As I left the Taumbs and hurried up the lift and cor-
ridors to their apartment, I confess my thoughts were
more upon this bewitching girl than upon her father.
There, in the eating chamber, I stumbled over the
body of Vuotd, my ex-tutor. He had been literally cut
to pieces by the hacking swords of some unknown foe.
Choking with rage and fear I raced through the seem-
ingly endless suite of rooms searching always for that
which I hoped not to find. Upon every side was unmis-
takable evidence that a terrific struggle had taken place.
Servants of Laedi were stretched in death in each com-
partment. Unarmed as they were, they must have been
brutally cut down in cold blood. Arms and fingers had
been sliced off as the fearless men fought with bare
hands to stem the tide.
In Laedi’s sleeping quarters I found the man sprawled
awkwardly on the floor, dying. Life was rapidly leaving
the brave noble because of an ugly hole in his side.
As I lifted him to the bed, his eyes opened slightly.
They mirrored the torture that he must be suffering,
though they softened ever so little as he recognized me.
“Tis you, Adu,” he whispered. “Thank the Maker-of-
all-Things. How — but wait! I have much to tell, and
time is short.
“You have seen what has happened. Shortly after
I returned, it began. Crestless men broke in and carried
on this terrible massacre that ended only after I had
fallen before their blades. Without identification, as
they were, I recognized many as men of the Dedul.
He sought to do treacherously that which he dared
not do openly. Not only has he succeeded, but he has
taken Votta.” His voice broke. I swore softly. With
an effort the rapidly weakening man continued. “Long
has Zemd tried to win my daughter, but always has she
spurned him. Through Baku he will now undoubtedly
achieve his heart’s desire. But that must not be. She
has already made her choice and that — ” he hesitated, “is
you — if you will have her. Men of Luvium fight — ”
here he struggled to rise but his strength was gone. For
a moment he lay wide eyed clutching my hand in terror.
Then, “I cannot. I cannot,” he cried. “Adu, swear you
will ” Suddenly his voice caught and trailed off to
nothing. His throat rasped the warning and it was
over.
With tears in my eyes I rose from the death bed and
faced Latvu. I had entered the room with but a hazy
notion of any future proceedings that must follow. Now
all was clear. Laedi’s death must be avenged and Votta
must be found. “If I would have her — ” God! Now
that I knew she loved me I would dare anything. I
would take the city ! That was it. First would I seize
the Palace and then, little by little reach out until all
Luvium lay in my power. But first must I have men to
follow me. Alone I could accomplish nothing.
There at the side of Laedi’s bed, I put my mad pro-
posal to Latvu and together we planned to rid Luvium
of its hated Monarch. Highly skeptical at first my col-
league became more and more enthusiastic as I raved on.
Finally he could restrain himself no longer.
“Well are you called Adu, the stranger,” he exclaimed.
“For no more daring and inconceivable thought was
ever known. We cannot be successful, but it is well
worth the try. Come, we will attempt that which no one
has thought possible.”
“But wait,” I cautioned. “Are we certain that we can
find men to follow us on this wild venture?”
Latvu’s eyes sparkled. “You know not the men of
Luvium,” he replied. “To them the word fear is un-
718
AMAZING STORIES
known. Fully half the nobles of the council table are
lifelong friends of Laedi. The news of his death and the
knowledge of his indirect murder will bring them flocking
to our side, eager to be at the throat of their Dedul.”
“But even they — is that enough,” I asked.
“You forget,” he cried, “the dying men in the mines.
Weeks will they live before their last bone is eaten away
and much can they do in that time. Do not think that
they will hesitate to fight against the man who doomed
them.”
On the second thought, my plan seemed not so mad.
At least we would take the Palace with the nobles in
back of me. I was not so sure of the men of the mines.
“How can you assemble these lost souls to make pos-
sible our massed attack ?” I queried.
Latvu was impatient. “Just as I have told you,” he
explained. "It will be simple. The word will spread
like wild-fire through the mines. As they live their
short life within the caves, they can easily make their
way without detection to the Mines of Laedi, where we
are to meet.
“It will be much more difficult to approach the nobles,
for I must avoid being retaken. Either personally or
through those I can trust, I will pass the word along.
They, in turn, will inform their fighting men.”
I was satisfied. Had I been able to choose, I could
not have picked a more capable lieutenant than Latvu.
“Look for me with at least five thousand warriors,”
was his encouraging statement. “We will meet you in
the Caves of Laedi the third rest period from this — un-
less you hear otherwise. Doma!”
“Good-bye.” I echoed. “And good luck.” And he
hurried away.
I passed the time wandering about the city, eating and
sleeping in public houses. At the first opportunity I
exchanged my rich trappings for the less pretentious
metal of an unattached citizen. Time and again I heard
my name mentioned over the Teletadta (a Luvium
radio). But I was safe. I was but one in millions.
No word had I heard of the threatened uprising, so
I concluded that Latvu was doing his work well. His
task was not an easy one and I was righteously troubled
as I sped towards our meeting place at the beginning of
the third rest. Was my able friend surprised while at
his perilous pursuit and did he now lie chained in some
forgotten cell beneath the mighty Palace? I had no way
of knowing. More and more 1 realized that whatever
success might be ours, depended solely upon him.
But my fears were groundless. Deep within a massive
chamber of Laedi, I found some three thousand heavily
armed warriors awaiting my coming. More were stream-
ing in from all passageways. Latvu had been fortunate
beyond all reason. A good six thousand throats roared
forth a greeting as I stepped upon the raised platform.
As many head-dresses shook vigorously as I unfolded
my plan. Some there were who voiced their disap-
proval but not many. These were rapidly won over as
1 hurriedly sketched the attack. Briefly it was this :
The main body of the army was to march from the
mines through the deserted streets to the Palace. There
they were to concentrate the attack on the main entrance
and force their way down into the huge lobby. This
they were to gain and hold at all costs for to be vic-
torious we must command the exits to the city.
There were only eight other possible means of access
to the structure; these being the landing stations of the
underground Taumbs. The remainder of our force
was to scatter throughout the city and board the chairs
in equal numbers for these points of advantage. Once
within a station they were to take possession and prevent
reinforcements from entering.
When the success of this venture was assured, our
main body minus guards for the entrances was to march
to the king’s quarters and take him prisoner.
As I stepped from the platform 1 was not sure that the
Dedul would long remain a prisoner or at least a live
one. His fate was sealed — if we took him. Glancing
about me at the hundreds of fighting faces, I was cer-
tain we could. But I had not counted upon the thou-
sands guarding the mines of the nobles still loyal to their
king. Nor had I thought of the countless unattached
men that would rally around their ruler.
Had I but paused to ponder over these facts I might
not have been so cock-sure of victory as I swung along
at the head of some four thousand silent but grim war-
riors. Silence was demanded for we must reach our goal
without preliminary alarm.
At that we were not so certain that our attack would
be a surprise. The alert guard strung about the meet-
ing point had captured ten men attempting to leave
ahead of us. Not one had broken through, we were
positive, but now an enemy would not find it difficult
to slip into a dim avenue, board a Taumb and warn the
Dedul. Whether or not this had been done I never
learned.
Straight to the descending runway of the Palace we
hurried at double-quick time. Down we went into the
huge chamber that was literally the heart of the edifice.
Sweeping aside the customary guards, we poured into
the space to meet our first real resistance.
It did not last long, for we greatly outnumbered the
hand that had been hastily thrown together. T rue, their
silent radium projectors tore great holes in our front,
but ours did too. And then we were upon them with
our swords. Man to man encounters so necessary 'in
cramped Luvium tend to make the rifle useless at close
range. It stands to reason that a warrior could as easily
destroy friend as foe in such a battle. Thus it was that
we fell upon them and wiped them out of existence.
The Palace, we thought, was ours.
Word came from each of the eight stations that spoke
of amazing success. The King, the Palace and the city
belonged to us; we went wild with joy. Singing and
shouting we set out for the King’s Quarters, leaving a
handful of men to watch the entrance.
The corridors and elevators were not in motion, neces-
sitating long weary climbs and equally tiring marches
through the many passages. Always were desperate war-
riors hurling themselves upon us from each side with
monotonous regularity, all of which served to slightly
cool our enthusiasm. Many we left to die in the passes
that we followed and many of these were those who had
sworn to follow me.
Long before we reached the outer chambers of the
King’s private suite, I began to have grave doubts. At
each new turn and intersection we lost more men than
we could afford. My fears grew and as I looked at the
pitiful remnant that had so eagerly pushed forward. I
sensed that they, too, were not sure of the outcome.
Would our gallant effort fall short on the very threshold
of success? It could not, for we must avenge Laedi
and Votta must be found.
LUYIUM
719
Little did I care about the King. The hard men at my
side would take charge of his wrinkled carcass. My
thoughts were only for Votta.
Onward we went until we reached the abode of Baku.
Racing through the chambers, we sought the cunning
devil. His personal body guard fought much as had
those of Laedi, but the Dedul himself had vanished.
Not the slightest trace of him did we find, nor was Votta
within the sacred dwelling. Crestfallen and beaten, we
assembled to discuss our next move. A scarce handful
were we compared to the mighty army that had sel out
so jubilantly.
Then, into the midst of the discouraged group raced
a bloody warrior, bearing fresh news of calamity.
“Prepare yourself,” he screamed, “for all is lost!
From the mines they come, thousands strong. Even
now they march upon us through the Palace. Our guard
at the castle front fought well but the others were as
many as the stones of Luvium.”
Instantly bedlam broke forth among the now thor-
oughly alarmed group. They turned to me for counsel.
“Men of Luvium,” I cried. “You who know no fear;
you well know that this is the end. Sword or capture
it will be the same, for your Dedul is heartless; none
will be spared.
“Better is it that we scatter and deal with them as we
were dealt with through the long tortuous passages. As
you die, take with you the satisfaction that you do not
die alone. Keep sharp watch for the crafty Baku. May
he be with us as we stand before the Maker-of-All-
Things.” And I bid them go.
With loud cheers they rapidly emptied the room.
Latvu and I together with three other warriors, hurried
from the room and sought side avenues to lead us to a
spot wherein we might sell our lives dearly.
Swinging around a corner on one of these side passes,
we plunged headlong into a party of eight fighting men
of the House of Baku. Between them they dragged a
struggling woman. With a cry of rage, I sprang for-
ward, my heart pounding fiercely. I found Votta.
I N an instant we were upon them. Caught completely
off guard, two went down before our steel at our
first rush. Six to five they stood, with the odds in
their favor; but the fact that we were fighting for Votta
more than evened matters. They were only battling for
their lives !
I fought like a man possessed. Every trick, every
thrust that I had ever learned was brought into play.
But these men were no fools. Picked from the best of
the King’s Retinue they stood well to defend this honor.
Two had singled me out for their particular quarry,
for no doubt they knew the part I played in this upris-
ing. Great would be their reward if I went down before
them. Apart from the rest we parried. One attempted
to bring into action his radium killer, while the other
fought to hold me off. They failed 1 I doubt if a dozen
men could have held me long with Votta there to watch
me. Redoubling my efforts, I sent my lone antagonist
reeling backward, whirling in time to fun through the
fellow handling the rifle. I met the other’s furious re-
covery with a frenzy that equalled his own. It was not
long. As my point slipped beneath his ribs, I leaped
about to aid my comrades. Only two remained on their
feet, Latvu and a bleeding foe upon whom he wasted
little time. Even as I turned, he sent his man crashing
to the stone with a foot of steel buried in his throat.
Then it was I faced Votta, who all this time had
crouched terror' stricken against the wall. With a little
sob of relief she sprang towards me and, quite as natur-
ally as though I had done it all my life, I folded her into
my arms, covering her face with hungry kisses. All
this and more before the astonished Latvu, until that
stalwart warrior, finding his tongue, brought us back
to earth.
“Come, my friend,” he cautioned, “forget not in your
love-making that we have yet to deal with Baku. Life
to you will seem much sweeter now, so we must find a
way to preserve it, rather than to sell it as we had
planned. Could we but make the city ” he ended
lamely; there was little hope in his idle words.
Back into my head came my previous plan for escape.
If we could fight our way through the Mines of Zemd,
we might reach my world by means of the caves. It
stood as a long chance, but we must take it. Should
we remain here or in Luvium, itself, naught but death
would await us.
“Latvu,” I said, “rack that mighty brain of yours and
find some way for us to leave this place of death. If we
could reach the Taumbs, we might be able to make our
way to the tunnel through which I entered your buried
city. What say you to a life amongst my people upon
theVoilt?”
“If there is such a place, why not?” he muttered,
more to himself than to me. “Death is certain in
Luvium.”
“And you, Votta?” I asked, sick with the fear that
she would refuse.
“I will go with you anywhere,” she replied, simply.
“Nothing is there in the land of my life to hold me. My
father ” her lips trembled and tears welled in her
eyes. Once again I gathered her in my arms, but Latvu
interrupted with a shout :
“I have it,” he cried, “if musty old Baku has once
more cut in on his power, we can easily reach the lower
levels. That he must have done long before, to more
easily scour the building for such parties as ours. Upon
each floor, at regular intervals, is the typical automatic
hoist of Luvium. In this way, we may reach the chairs.
The overpowering of the guard I leave to you. Come !”
Once again was my companion correct in his judg-
ment. More than that, we found our particular station
still in the hands of our party. It took but a moment
to tell them of the catastrophe that had befallen our
faithful little band.
Convinced of the hopelessness of the situation, they
boarded chairs directly behind us and left the room to
itself, dropping off one by one as we sped towards the
Mines of Zemd.
As we drew near our goal I dropped into second
gear to proceed with justifiable caution. Not a single
warrior had we passed coming from our destination.
This was strange, for always are the mines bustling with
activity.
And then I remembered! The Dedul had called all
the men from the mines to his protection. I could have
cried aloud for joy. Back to third gear I went, hum-
ming a happy tune. Soon we would be far beyond the
clutches of the tyrant of Luvium. With Votta at my
side, how wonderful the world would be. But — perhaps
I sang too soon !
( Continued on page 759)
ores. 7~i 7 "
Thornton was startled and looked up.
IV hat was that? . . . Good God! . . .
he was not too late! They looked
rjuestioningly at each other. No, that
could not be.
720
The ntarctic
T ransformation
By I. R. Nathanson
Author of “ Moon People of Jupiter,” “ The Passing Star,” etc.
TJfyT ITH the Lindberghs and the Hawks and the numerous other exploring
Vr and investigating fliers risking their lives for the benefit of the future of
aviation, it is not at all unlikely that the Polar Regions may soon become acces-
sible to enterprising engineers and mechanics of the present age, who may find
vast natural resources which might with their aid, assume great industrial pro-
portions. Mr. Nathanson, in his usual manner, depicts in this impressive story:
the results of such an expedition and makes it fraught with thrills.
Illustrated by MOREY
W HEN Benjamin Smith joined the
famous Kingsbury Antarctic Expedi-
tion, in the capacity of geologist, little
did he or anyone else dream that he was
destined to conceive one of the most
momentous ideas in history.
Ben was about thirty years of age, tall, thin and of
studious appearance. He was well known as an engi-
neer of great ability. But he was still better known in
scientific circles as a geologist of note who had dis-
tinguished himself by several important contributions to
that science — a singular accomplishment for one man in
two separate fields.
During the long stay of the Kingsbury Expedition in
the frozen continent, Smith was commissioned to head
a geological party on an extensive exploration into reg-
ions never before pierced by man.
Gaily and brimming with enthusiasm, the little group
of five men, who comprised the geological party, pointed
their sleds south; and. amidst the cheers and good byes
of their comrades at the main base camp, fared forth on
their great adventure.
After terrific hardships, they succeeded in penetrating
a most forbidding territory, which, in its almost insur-
mountable barriers, tried every last ounce of their en-
durance, and more than once came well nigh being their
everlasting tomb.
To cap it all they came to an extensive region criss-
crossed by impassable crevasses and surrounded by un-
scalable peaks. The whole area was full of deep and
dangerous cracks and large holes, from which there
issued dense clouds of escaping steam and enormous
geysers of boiling water. Condensing vapor from the
hissing jets of steam, which shot forth to great height,
filled the air; the whole region was a forbidding yet
awe-inspiring picture of Hades struggling to burst forth
in the frozen wilderness. What went on beneath the
unknown hundreds of feet thickness of ice which cov-
ered the land surface, they could but guess and marvel
at in fearful astonishment.
At the risk of their lives, and urged on by Ben Smith,
the party penetrated the forbidding region to gather
available data of this remarkable phenomenon. Shortly
after, they came to an immense chasm where the most
awe-inspiring spectacle greeted their eyes.
From their position high on top of the ice sheet, they
looked down on a great steam-laden geyser basin of
enormous extent, which stretched away as far as the
eye could see. The floor of this geyser basin, hundreds
of feet below them, and apparently free of ice, was full
of holes and cracks and fissures, from which spouted
and hissed innumerable gigantic geysers and clouds of
steam, filling the whole basin with an inferno of light
and sound.
Determined at any cost to explore the floor of this
immense chasm formed by the great geyser basin in the
heart of the melted icecap, Ben Smith and his compan-
ions descended to the bottom, where they lingered a
long time, fascinated by their discoveries.
It was here that Smith conceived his momentous idea.
721
722
AMAZING STORIES
In his mind there was formed a vivid mental picture
of what was going on thousands of feet below in the
interior of the earth. From somewhere, whence no one
knew, some mighty subterranean river or rivers of
water flowed through innumerable passages in the hot
rocky interior deep in the earth; became heated to a
steaming temperature as it flowed on, emptying some-
where far away, no man knew where. In the chasm
of the Great Geyser Basin, the mighty passage of super-
heated waters, forced upward by the tremendous inter-
nal pressure, as well as due to the natural folding of the
earth, came within a short distance of the rocky surface
of the basin; from the many cracks whence came the
escaping hot water and steam. The subterranean waters
then dipped down again and continued their buried flow
to some unknown destination.
After much hardship and hair-breadth escapes, the
geological party returned to the main base of the expe-
dition.
W ITH the return of the Kingsbury Expedition to
civilization, the discovery of the remarkable geyser
basin existing in the Antarctic became a matter of aca-
demic interest, for which the heroic band of geologists
received the highest praise. But to Benjamin Smith
the wonderful phenomenon buried in the heart of the
frozen continent suggested something more than mere
wonder. Gradually the idea which his mind had con-
ceived crystallized into a definite plan, which in the
vastness of the concept, the grandiosity of its scale,
would conceivably enrich the lives of millions of people,
and in time assume a far-reaching role in the affairs of
the world.
His idea in brief was this : If the inexhaustible volume
of heated water could be released at the points where
the subterranean passages came so close to the surface,
and then caused to continue its flow outside over the
land. . . . the warmth and latent heat of this enormous
body of superheated water, as it moved to the sea, would
soon bring about a vast change in the climate over an
enormous area of the frozen continent.
Furthermore, his explorations had disclosed an ex-
tensive surface soil underneath the ice cap; indicating
plainly that, at one time in the" geologic past, what was
now a frozen waste had been, before the advent of the
ice age, a land of warmth and life, perhaps sub-tropical
in nature.
His plan, if carried out, would restore, in a large por-
tion of it at least, the primeval fertility of the continent,
creating a blooming paradise, capable of supporting a
great civilization, where now was a frozen waste. And
who knew what untold wealth would be disclosed in the
exposing of thousands of square miles of earth now
hidden by the superimposed ice-cap.
Practical engineer as well as geologist, he set to work
making definite working plans. These finished, checked
and found mathematically sound, he began to study
about the first steps in launching a project of such mag-
nitude. Of the soundness of his plan he had no doubt.
The main thing would be the raising of the enormous
finances required. Of that he also felt no doubt; for
who could fail to see the far-reaching benefits to all —
the opening of a new continent !
Blithely Benjamin Smith launched forth on his course.
He had the idea, the plans: the world had the needed
money. All that was needed was a union of the two.
A S his first move, he began by arranging interviews,
. to interest several prominent statesmen in Wash-
ington. Lightheartedly he set out for the capital ; there
to confer with the great leaders, who by their breadth
of vision, their statesmanship, their publicly acclaimed
abilities, could scarcely fail to grasp at once the great-
ness, the feasibility of his wonderful conception. And
surely they would back him; to the glory and profit of
himself and themselves and their country — an achieve-
ment that should go down in history without parallel.
Then commenced a long series of disheartening and
heartbreaking interviews, over a continuously lengthen-
ing time, without any apparent hope of ever getting
anywhere.
The great statesmen and government officials whom
he interviewed received him with politeness and listened
more or less attentively to his well thought out plans.
But just as soon as they caught the drift of his ideas,
pregnant with the climatic transformation of a continent,
their time became very short. And with brief formality
and meaning looks, that ran all the way from unspoken
pity to brusque evasion, to impatient contempt, the
geologist-engineer was ushered quickly out of the pres-
ence of the important individuals.
Some were greatly amused, and said it was a “great
idea”; some wished him Methuselah’s life, so he could
see it through ; others told him more or less plainly there
were many well kept institutions for such as he, where
he could peacefully continue with his dreams. And one
great statesman smiled and offered him a cigar and stood
up, signifying the end of the interview — and the end of
his hopes. “I didn’t know that there were such animals
running around loose these days,” was the flitting
thought that ran through the great man’s mind. “Oh —
hum,” and he turned to his papers.
S ADLY and dejectedly our would-be continental
transformer turned homeward. The governmental
authorities would have nothing to do with the crazy idea,
even though he was a reputable scientist. His ideas and
his clear, well worked-out plans for its realization were
brushed aside as the vaporings of a two-year old babe.
He suffered cruelly from his disillusionment.
With all due respect to our hero’s great genius, he
was woefully lacking in worldliness. In particular was
he lacking in a knowledge of the workings of the mind
which go to make up a successful politician, too often
mistaken for real statesmanship. He did not know
that these worthy gentlemen in control of the body poli-
tic are, as a class, singularly devoid of broad vision and
of a grasp of the prime moving forces of civilization.
So that of all people, Smith had unknowingly sought
to interest just those types of people who by nature and
training are least capable of imagining such ideas as
he sought to bring to realization.
Still determined, however, and gathering fresh cour-
age, our hero began to seek other channels. From states-
men of national repute, he turned to enlist the aid of
rich individuals and corporations.
Then commenced more interminable interviews, re-
jections, disappointments, heartless ridicule; and in one
particular case, actual ejection by an irate capitalist, who,
exasperated by the persistent theorist, pushed him out
none too gently, causing Mr.' Smith to stumble into an
undignified position on his coat tails.
To his dismay and bitter disillusionment, the deep
THE ANTARCTIC TRANSFORMATION 723
thinking but unworldly Benjamin Smith found that
rich men are not necessarily more capable or avid of
grabbing his great idea than were the great statesmen.
So time went by. In Smith’s mind only did his great
conception of the Antarctic transformation live on. Be-
fore his mind’s eye would ever arise the grand vision of
a long and broad fertile land, through which flowed
mighty rivers of warm water, spreading their beneficent,
life-giving warmth over a new-born region, with balmy
breezes and “flowing with milk and honey.” Beautiful
homes, green valleys and growing things covered the
new land. Mammoth industries thrived and drew their
power from the same subterranean reservoir. Happy
people building a great new civilization, connected with
the rest of the world by a constant stream of vessels
that came and went by water and air, was his dream.
O UTSIDE of his great dream, with the passing of
time, something else came into his life. He had
fallen in love.
But that did not by any means indicate that Norma
Hastings, the attractive twenty-two year old girl he
was in love with, returned his all too evident affections.
In spite of all his attentions, she was almost as elusive
as was his other great unrealized dream — he hardly
knew which was the most unattainable, achievement or
love.
One of the seemingly greatest obstacles in the way
of Ben Smith’s realization of the quest of his heart,
aside from the uncertainty of the true direction of the
young lady’s feelings — an obstacle which smote him
cruelly and filled him with much painful jealousy — was
none other than a certain young man by the name of
Roger Thornton; who just as keenly and ardently and
jealously wooed the girl for himself.
A bitter hatred quickly grew up between the two, as
in the selfsame quest they were frequently and painfully
and often unwillingly brought together — pretty Norma
Hastings taking keen delight in the polite but deadly
clash of her two jealous suitors.
Roger Thornton, his bitter rival, was young, rich,
handsome and a member of an influential family. He
had been greatly favored in life’s struggle, through no
particular effort of his own ; and grew up very much
spoiled, used to being favored and petted. His station
in life enabled him to continue in that pleasant status.
Accordingly, Ben’s intense rivalry for the hand of the
girl Roger Thornton had set his heart on was an ever-
present, painful thorn in the latter’s daily life. If the
former was never sure of the girl’s ultimate favor,
neither was he. It irritated and upset him greatly, to
say the least; and he hated Smith with a hatred that
knew no bounds.
As luck would have it, on one of Ben’s visits to the
Hastings home, who should pop in unexpectedly on the
two but Roger Thornton himself. Surprised and cha-
grined to find his hated rival there, Thornton nodded
curtly and glared rather barbarously at Ben, which glare
was returned with ample interest. As the two gentle-
men were both of a dynamic, tempestuous nature, the
more surprising in a dreamer type like Ben, this sudden
injection of the old problem of the triangle was fraught
with dynamite. The air began to crackle from an accu-
mulating surcharge of electricity. Conversation lagged,
faltered and reached the vanishing point. And it was
only the good breeding of the two men which prevented
anything altogether too rude from breaking out in the
open.
Through it all, the demure young lady tried her best
to keep up a show of liveliness, without much success.
Actually she enjoyed it. Within her stirred ancient
instincts of the forgotten past, still working powerfully
under the veneer of civilization. Shyly she reveled in
thus becoming the object of this modern version of the
primeval struggle of two males for a female. Sophisti-
cated and clever, she was deliciously aware of what was
going on right before her, but pretended not to notice
it.
“And how is your scheme of changing Antarctica
coming along?” Thornton asked with thinly veiled sar-
casm, almost a sneer on his face. "Raised your billion
yet ?”
The other reddened and bit his lip. The shaft was all
too plainly aimed for the girl’s benefit. The many re-
buffs which his struggle to carry out his plans had re-
ceived made him quite sensitive.
"Why don’t you see John Dykeman? Maybe he might
get interested in your scheme,” with emphasis on scheme.
“You know, he has just recently come into full control
of his father’s estate.” Taunt and mockery played over
Thornton’s face, as he looked pointedly first at Ben, then
at the girl. He’d make a fool of that fellow right before
Norma’s eyes, so she could see for herself the difference
between them.
Full well he knew, as did the others, the reputation of
the elder Dykeman’s hard-fistedness and his son’s re-
puted following in his father’s footsteps. Would that
that whelp of a Dykeman should fall for that fool
engineer and lose a fortune thereby. But no such luck
— the Dykemans were too shrewd.
S OMETIMES men build better than they know. And
sometimes ill-meant advice brings good fruit and
redounds to the disadvantage of the evil-wisher.
Thornton’s suggestion about seeing the enormously
rich young Dykeman struck home. In his former efforts
he had never bethought himself of seeking out the elder
Dykeman, whose hard-headedness was a by-word. But
now, since his son had recently come into full control of
the father’s vast interests, Smith made up his mind to
see if he could interest him.
It took considerable wire-pulling, but at last an inter-
view was arranged with the rich as well as influen-
tial John Dykeman Jr. As Ben was ushered into the
former’s private office, he trembled slightly; so much
might come of such an interview.
John Dykeman was a young man in the early thirties.
He was rather undersized, thin, and at first sight, gave
one an impression of insignificance. But you soon for-
got all that when you faced him. He was possessed of
a magnificent brow, firmly held mouth and jaw, and
marvelous steel-blue eyes that burned like coals and
looked you through and through. Here was no pygmy
mind. Clearly John Dykeman held a firm hand on the
vast enterprises created and developed by his lately
deceased father.
Briefly as he could, Ben stated his case. Throughout
it all Dykeman listened carefully and with wrapt atten-
tion. As Ben warmed up to the subject, the other Man’s
face lit up with a strange light. From time to time he
nodded and said, “I see, I see ;” which to the enthusiastic
engineer meant everything and anything.
724
AMAZING STORIES
Followed a series of conferences between Ben Smith
and John Dykeman. The more he went into it the more
the latter was impressed with the magnificence of the
idea and with its feasibility. There was a good deal of
the daring pioneer, the sportsman in him, but withal his
keen practical mind never failed him. And he had imag-
ination — a gift not always possessed by the man of prac-
tical affairs — and it was fired by the dream of the engi-
neer-geologist.
A SPLENDIDLY equipped expedition, financed by
Dykeman’s millions, was first sent out to bring back
an independent report on the feasibility of the proposed
project. It gave enthusiastic support to the original find-
ings of Ben Smith.
Then, in every paper and public agency throughout
the world appeared the announcements of the floating
of the largest single company in history.
What the lone Smith, armed only with his idea, had
failed to start, John Dykeman, Jr., and his associates — -
powers in the industrial and financial worlds — were set-
ting in motion. Through their enormous influence and
powerful connections, and backed by the unlimited
Dykeman millions, numerous wealthy individuals, banks
and organizations became interested. An intense pre-
liminary propaganda, with all the art and resources of
the best advertising genius available, apprized the entire
world of the great project in glowing terms, and urged
everyone to partake in its limitless possibilities.
When the subscription books closed, a vast flood of
gold from every land had poured into the headquarters
of the Antarctic Development Corporation. Once
launched by the proper agencies, there were found le-
gions of people the world over, whose imagination was
fired by the unprecedented magnificence of the idea and
its heroic meaning; as well as the many who are ever
seeking fabulous gain. The outstanding stock was soon
bought up.
M OST amazed of all who were in any way inter-
ested, was Roger Thornton. To his dying day he
could not understand how, in the name of all that was
sensible, that fool of an engineer had succeeded in in-
teresting young Dykeman, who was responsible for hav-
ing started the financial ball rolling. To him the whole
business was a flat piece of nonsense, ridiculous to. the
extreme ; an impossible thing, a wild-goose chase after a
chimera, that could only end in vast sums going to waste
in the ice and snow at the bottom of the earth. He
almost laughed up his sleeve.
Well, they would get no money of his to further a
thing like that — although it suited his purpose to pre-
tend that he was greatly interested, and even promised
to invest heavily, with no intention of doing so.
He had a vindictive, jealous nature. He hated Dyke-
man no less than he hated Smith, with a bitter hatred
that had grown steadily out of business rivalry, espe-
cially as the Dykeman fortunes had by now grown en-
tirely out of his class — though he himself was a very
rich man. It would therefore have suited him exactly
to see the Antarctic Development Corporation go down
in failure and ignominy, together with Dykeman’s repu-
tation and personal fortune.
“I hope he loses his shirt in that venture,” was the
pleasant wish he privately nursed within himself; and
as to that silly fool of a Smith — well, it's very cold in
the Antarctic. ... By all means he must encourage the
crazy venture.
“What do you think of the Antarctic venture now,
Roger?” Norma had asked him.
“Great ! Splendid !”
She looked up at him quickly, doubtingly, as if puz-
zled at this change in his former opinions. “Do you
really believe it will succeed !”
“Of course, of course — with such men at the head
of it.”
“I’m so glad, so glad; it’s been so much on my mind,
and — ” she paused, and it was his turn to look at her
sharply.
“I guess I never will understand a woman,” he said
to himself.
T HE gigantic preparations for the great Antarctic
Conquest were far advanced and nearing comple-
tion. With unstinted capital and almost unlimited re-
sources, things were moving rapidly, although it seemed
extremely slowly to the impatient inventor of the idea.
Soon a vast armada would be leaving for the far
south.
But though he scarcely had time to think or rest, his
heart was hungry, compellingly hungry. At times he
almost wondered — after all, what did it all mean if — if
she did not. . . . His heart constricted and he shivered.
Involuntarily a painful picture of Norma in Roger
Thornton’s arms flashed across his inner vision. He
winced and almost cried aloud. “I must go to her, and
declare myself. I must know before I leave — come
what will.”
T HEY were in the spacious living room of the Hast-
ings home ; alone, and it was getting late. She was
sweet and friendly in her usual manner, charmingly
reserved, but she seemed very pensive.
Several times he was on the verge of speaking what
lay close to his heart ; but each time some uncontrollable
timidity held him back. He was one of those types of
lovers who put the one they love on a pedestal. She
seemed so unapproachable. Always he was like a timid
schoolboy in her presence.
It was a gorgeous summer night, and they walked
out on the terrace. Silently they stood side by side look-
ing out into the distance, shrouded with the brooding
mantle of night. The sky was clear, the air soft and
warm. Low on the southern horizon stretched Scorpio,
fiery Antares ablaze. Overhead the starry vault bejew-
elled with the summer constellations, Aquila, Cygnus,
Lyra with the brilliant Vega.
For long they stood, speaking scarcely a word, each in
the grip of a powerful emotion. Gently his arm stole
around her, drew her to him with a caressing movement.
He thrilled when she made no resistance — leaned toward
him ; thrilled as her soft arm encircled his neck, her
fingers running lovingly through his hair. ’
“Norma, soon I shall be leaving you for a long time.
That is the hardest thing for me to bear. But when I
return ... we shall be united forever.”
“I shall wait for you, Ben, always, till my last breath,”
and she snuggled in his arms.
T HE strangest and most inspiring sight ever wit-
nessed on this planet was going on.
In the far southern waters of the Antarctic Ocean
THE ANTARCTIC TRANSFORMATION
725
the mightiest armada ever gathered was heading its way
to the frozen continent. But it was no armada on the
way to blood and conquest of man over man. It was a
vastly more inspiring and noble struggle of man’s con-
quest over the blind forces of nature. It was a mighty
armada, for peace, for achievement, for the furtherance
of human happiness, to add to the greatness of man and
his works.
As far as the eye could see, from horizon to horizon,
stretched long lines of mighty ships specially equipped
for the expedition, laden with the instruments of
achievement. It was the first time in the history of man-
kind that such a vast effort with the accompanying ex-
penditure of wealth and material was to be made in the
interest of progress and upbuilding, not of war and
destruction.
As chief of the entire expedition went Benjamin
Smith. At his side, brimming with boyish enthusiasm,
was John Dykeman, financial head and sponsor. A
large, well selected staff of engineers and scientists were
on hand together with an army of workers in every
walk of life. It had been no difficulty to obtain more
men than were needed, as the lure of adventure is in
almost every man’s blood. On many transports were
vast quantities of supplies of all kinds ; excavating and
building machinery, explosives, food and everything else
needed.
The work commenced methodically and with little
waste. Advance parties had already led the way, laying
out and building landing bases for the army of workers
who were to follow.
A scene of activity began on the frozen continent such
as no one ever dreamed of before. To move the vast
quantities of supplies and heavy machinery from the
bases first established near the great ice barrier to the
Geyser Basin, where the actual work on the proj'ect was
to begin, a unique system of transportation was devised
by Smith, which had previously been tested and worked
splendidly. Long steel cars on part sled and caterpillar
runners, capable of carrying heavy loads, were ade-
quately powered by powerful airplane motors in com-
bination with huge four-bladed airplane propellers. By
this method the tractive problem was solved efficiently
and well. The great length of the cars made them inde-
pendent of all ordinary obstructions or breaks in the ice,
and comparatively long distances could be covered in a
day at good speed. In addition a huge fleet of large
freight-carrying planes aided in the quick transportation
of men and supplies.
In a surprisingly short time, the Great Geyser Basin,
as it was to be known, became one huge construction
camp. With everything planned with care and fore-
sight, with the workers housed warmly and comfortably,
their health, their comforts and even their amusements
carefully seen to, very few mishaps occurred for an un-
dertaking of such magnitude.
F ROM every land came a steady stream of men and
supplies, converging on New Zealand, thence on to
Antarctica and the Geyser Basin, about six hundred
miles from the ice barrier.
The proceedings were watched with the greatest in-
terest all over the world. Every step was enthusiasti-
cally followed by millions. People sat at home in their
comfortable chairs by their warm firesides, and through
their radio and television sets looked on the toiling army
so far away at the frozen bottom of the earth. Here at
last was something on which the common interest of a
whole humanity could center without heartache or dis-
cord, without bickering, j'ealousy or strife.
It was the greatest single lesson for universal progress
and peace.
The work went on steadily throughout the long sum-
mer day; and continued throughout the long winter
night. There was to be no long, nerve-trying idling
during the bitterly cold Antarctic night. All the way
from the base camps near the edge of the continent to
the geyser region, blazing electric lights were strung.
And inside heated vehicles, propelled at a goodly speed
along the brightly-lit ways, men and supplies moved
steadily forward to the main center of operations.
Veritable temporary cities sprang up; innumerable
lights blazed their cheerful glow ; and in spite of the
frigid sky and the howling blizzards, there was comfort
and cheer.
Shades of Amundsen, Scott and Andree, and all the
other great heroes who perished near the poles of the
earth ! What were these men doing ?
A T last the great engineering works in the geyser
basin, that was to direct the vast flood of hot
waters, when the time came for its release, and send it
flowing in mighty streams to the distant ocean, was near-
ing completion. The natural courses which the waters
would follow were closely plotted.
The region selected for the blow-off was being pre-
pared and mined with mountains of the most powerful
explosives. An area five miles long and hundreds of
feet wide, where the subterranean waters came closest
to the rocky surface, was to be blown up at a given sig-
nal in one vast, mighty explosion — the largest single
artificial explosion in 'the history of the planet. The
mighty upheaval was planned to block the northern sub-
terranean passages and bring the liberated steaming
waters to the surface, where it would continue its unin-
terrupted flow to the sea, melting the surrounding gla-
ciers and ice-sleet to great distances, and imparting to
the climate its life-giving heat on the way. Thus would
begin the great transformation.
A MONG all the people back home, who were follow-
ing with more or less interest the fortunes of the
gigantic enterprise in the frozen south, there were two
individuals who were particularly and vitally interested
in the outcome. One, a young woman, lonesome and
heartsick for her betrothed, hoping and praying for the
success of the great undertaking and for her lover's safe
return. The other, a j'ealous, envious, hate-filled man,
who, with equal intensity, hoped and prayed for the
expedition’s failure.
Throughout Ben’s long absence, laboring far away at
the other end of the earth, Roger Thornton paid persist-
ent court to Norma Hastings. But, true to her distant
lover, she gave him scant encouragement, and even sent
him about his business.
Thornton, however, was not one easily to be brushed
aside. Whatever else may be said of him, he was really
and desperately in love with the girl, and was of the
kind that would stoop to a whole lot to gain his object.
And there was a certain recklessness and daring about
him which made him an exceedingly dangerous man
when aroused.
726
AMAZING STORIES
He was consumed with jealousy and desire ; burning
up with hate for the man who had bested him in love;
and with equal hatred and envy for Dykeman, his bitter
business rival. Constantly arriving reports had begun to
make him fearful of the success of their undertaking;
and he had ceased to scoff.
Thus within the breast of the man flamed two power-
ful emotions : one based on economic rivalry ; the other,
the ancient violent force of sex — two motives which in a
man of Thornton’s nature might lead to anything.
Ah, if only something would happen out there ; some-
thing go wrong ; something that would cause the failure
of the whole venture and send the two leaders home dis-
credited and ruined — or perhaps ... it was a long dis-
tance from home . . . and anything could happen. Curses
on those two ! In his hate-devoured mind things shaped
themselves so that he blamed Smith and Dykeman for
robbing him of peace and happiness and what, to his
way of thinking, rightfully belonged to him.
Yes, if only something would happen. . . . That was it
— Why can’t something happen? . . . Why not? . . .
,With Smith and Dykeman out of the way. . . . And he
regaled himself with pleasant phantasies of winning
Norma, of his great business rival ruined, that engineer
gone to perdition. . . . Sinister thoughts flitted through
his mind — and he quailed. He did not quite like to face
such dreadful thoughts as presented themselves in order
for him to win out.
Well, he would see . . . he would see. . . . Something
. . . something had to be done — and soon.
B EN SMITH and John Dykeman were resting in
their comfortably furnished, warm quarters after
long, gruelling labor. Outside it was 74 degrees below,
and a fearful blizzard was raging, burying everything
with a thick mantle of powdery snow. During those
raging blizzards work went on at a greatly slackened
pace.
Stretched out in a restful pose, Ben was suddenly
brought to a sitting position by the receipt of a long
radiogram from his beloved. Amongst other things, it
read :
“ Roger is a pest; I can’t get rid of him.
“Of late he has become very interested in your ven-
ture, and questions me closely for detailed information.
He says he wants more intimate details on the exact
progress of the work than can be learned from the pub-
lic announcements. At first I gave him all the informa-
tion I had, not thinking there could be any harm in it;
but now, I don’t know why, I am worried.
“Last night he came to me and told me he had fitted
out a small expedition of his own, as he was desirous
of making a private trip to investigate the scene of
operations for himself before buying heavily of Ant-
arctic Corporation stock.
“I understand he has outfitted two vessels for the trip.
It is rumored he has gone to extensive preparations. I
cannot understand why he should go to all that bother
and expense. Anyhow, I thought I would let you know.
“Come home soon and safe. Thinking of you day
and night.
“Lovingly — N orma.”
Without a word Ben stood up and handed the radio-
gram to Dykeman. For some indefinable reason the
news quite upset him, and filled him with a strange sense
of foreboding ill.
Dykeman wrinkled his brow in deep thought, frown-
ing as he did so. Presently he said, “Do you suppose
he’s got something on his mind, Ben?”
“I do. Don’t you think so, John?”
“I am inclined to think so, too. I know from pre-
vious dealings with him that he is unreliable and
treacherous. I had to win my rights with him more than
once in law suits.”
“But for what reason should he be spending so much
money and hazarding a trip like that — that’s what puz-
zles me, John.”
“Plenty of reason, Ben. Didn’t you beat his time to
that girl ? He is full of insufferable pride. I understand
he took it into his head that she was his, until you
stepped in and won out. I guess he never will forgive
you for that.” And John began to tease Ben good-
naturedly, as men often do about a girl the other loves.
“Neither does he waste any love on me.”
“But what can he have against you ?”
Dykeman gave a short laugh. “Plenty, plenty — at
least he thinks he has. He tried to trim my father and
me in the Acme Steel deal ; but we gave him the biggest
lickin’ of his life. He never will forget that. He’s also
tried to pull off several other unethical deals which I
checkmated. He’s out of my running now ; but I under-
stand he is still smarting, I’d hate to be in his power,
financial or otherwise.”
“But what harm can he do us?”
Dykeman shrugged his shoulders. “None that I can
see. I’d say, he’d bear watching, however. He is very
vindictive.”
Ben paced up and down, deep in thought, a worried
look on his face; in the grip of a nameless feeling of
impending disaster.
“Come, come, Ben. As in the good old story books,
we’ll come out all right in the end, and you’ll finish up
with Norma in your arms. Really, I can’t see what par-
ticular harm he can do.”
“I guess not. I guess. . . . We do have mountains of
explosives around here, and — ” he turned around with a
jerk and faced Dykeman. The two contemplated each
other in silence, each reading the other’s mind. “But,
still — I hardly think he’d dare anything like that. . .
Do you?”
Dykeman half closed his eyes and stroked his chin.
“I’ll flash orders around to keep a close check on his
movements. It can do no harm.”
O UT on the high seas, driving before a fierce gale
that was sweeping the storm-tossed waters of the
Antarctic, treacherous ice all around, two sturdy vessels
were heading south.
On the bridge, warmly clad in a heavy ulster, storm
cap down to his eyes, and covering his lower face, stood
Roger Thornton, peering out on the swirling mist and
the mountainous waves ; a determined look on his face.
At his side stood two others, his close, bosom friends.
The cold, fierce wind tore the words out of their mouths,
making conversation almost impossible.
Few on board knew the primary purpose of this pri-
vately undertaken expedition to the bottom of the earth.
With the exception of his two intimates, and a few
others sworn to secrecy, under heavy pay, and skilled
for the purpose, it was the general belief that the
wealthy Mr. Thornton was undertaking this trip out of
adventure and for purposes of investment.
THE ANTARCTIC TRANSFORMATION
727
Although not planned as a very long trip, as such ex-
peditions go, still the two vessels were well laden with
considerable supplies of all sorts. Two vessels were
taken along to add to the safety of the trip. In addition
to the other equipment on board, were several large
planes, and four large and powerful combination
caterpillar-sled and airplane propeller land vehicles, spe-
cially made in imitation of those used by the Smith-
Dykeman expedition.
Although more than one of the crew wondered at the
purpose of the Thornton expedition, they dismissed it
with a shrug of the shoulders ; and, as several remarked,
“those rich young fellows sure can think up lots of ways
of spending money on a whim.”
But it was no “whim” which impelled Thornton to
undergo so much hardship and expense, nor even from a
sporting sense, nor for purposes of investment ; no, nor
the lure of adventure to be found in the ends of the
earth. Intolerable jealousy, envy, hate and revenge,
with a determination to turn it all to his advantage,
flamed high within him with an unreasoning intensity,
bordering on madness. With his wealth and character,
and the tempestuous emotions which gripped him, he
was indeed a dangerous man.
For driven by his uncontrollable passions, Thornton
had conceived a dangerous and dastardly idea, which he
was diabolically determined to carry through at all costs,
even with the greatest risk to himself. Just as the cre-
ative spirit of Benjamin Smith, in the interest of good
and achievement, had conceived the noble and grand mis-
sion of transforming a continent, and with the help of
the far-seeing young capitalist was proceeding to carry it
out ; just so, equally in the opposite and destroying spir-
it, out of personal revenge and dastardly gain, Roger
Thornton was determined to render their efforts futile.
He would stop at nothing. Let them beware: if
necessary their blood be on their own heads. Evil men
have always thus sought to ease their conscience, when
about to perpetrate a diabolical deed, by laying the blame
on those they seek to destroy. The man to whom you
have loaned money when he needed it, avoids you — you
are his enemy ; the man who has wronged you, seeks to
feel righteously angry about it — you are to blame, the
devil take you. What stark demons there lurk in the
labyrinthine depths of the unplumbed human mind 1
Thornton knew by now that the final phases of the
great work were nearing completion. He knew of the
vast quantities of explosives on hand — knew that the
large area which was chosen as the crucial place to be
exploded was already in the process of being prepared
and mined.
As no secrets had been made of the intricacies of the
problems confronting the great undertaking, he knew
full well that the well-calculated plans could be wrecked
irretrievably. For the task of causing the pent-up
heated waters to come to the surface, and the torrential
flow chained and guided in the proper manner and direc-
tion, depended on the utmost engineering precision. And
a premature blowing up of the partially mined area, to-
gether with the key engineering works, would spell ruin
to the entire project forever.
B UT fate often puts obstacles in the way of the best
laid plans.
The Thornton expedition was delayed for more than a
month in arriving at the great ice barrier. It was an
unaccountably late spring; and the Antarctic was very
cold and terrifically stormy. The water was full of
treacherous ice packs and huge icebergs, and the going
became increasingly slow and difficult. Again and again
they were held fast by the inclosing ice, with the barrier
still a long distance away. Thornton was in a raging
temper.
At last they reached the barrier, and after much diffi-
culty succeeded in making a landing at a considerable
distance from the base camps of the Antarctic Develop-
ment Corporation. He arrived on the edge of the conti-
nent much later than he had planned. But Thornton
consoled himself with the knowledge that he still had
plenty of time to carry out his dastardly scheme.
His base camp placed, and everything made ready ac-
cording to plan, he began the final preparations for the
over-ice dash to the Great Geyser Basin and back.
For the complete carrying out of his scheme, and in
order to avoid detection, it was decided not to use the
more speedy airplanes ; instead he decided to employ the
special combination air-propeller driven cars. These,
however, were capable of no mean speed, and could
cover the six or seven hundred miles in fairly good time
and with a much greater degree of safety.
After the most painstaking preparations, Thornton,
his two bosom friends, and six trusted henchmen, set
out with three of the machines. In addition to a plenti-
ful supply of food, they took along a quantity of the
most powerful explosives in camouflaged containers.
The plan of action was this: After arriving at the
Geyser Basin, without being detected, and as close as
possible to the great works going on, to make camp there
from which to strike the final blow. They were in pos-
session of complete maps and plans of all that was going
on in the Geyser Basin, and of the approximately sched-
uled rate of construction of the great works. Working
out from their final base close to the basin, Thornton
and his men would mine the key positions of the almost
completed works with powerful time-bombs. At the
same time, and as the main operation, they would set
off prematurely the already partially mined geyser basin
which was being prepared and mined by the Stnith-
Dykeman forces. Time-fuses would do the work.
Then, safe and sound from a distance, Thornton could
view the blast which would bury all the hopes and plans
of his enemies forever.
With clear weather favoring, Thornton and his party
set off for the Great Geyser Basin amidst the cheers
and good-byes of those left behind in the base camp ;
who were totally unaware of the sinister mission on
which the departing ones were bent. To all intents and
purposes it w'as nothing but a private sporting and
exploratory venture.
At first the Thornton party made rapid progress.
Their machines functioned perfectly, covering quite long
distances between rests. At sleeping time they rested
quite comfortably inside the artificially warmed vehicles.
As day by day the party drew nearer and nearer to
their final scene of operations, Thornton’s eyes gleamed
with savage satisfaction. At last . . . soon, soon, his
hated enemies would reckon with him!
But here again, fate, in the form of the terribly diffi-
cult elements which hemmed them in, stepped in and
caused unexpectedly long delays. In spite of the power
of their machines, they were forced to make long, cir-
cuitous movements ; and with difficulty managed to make
728
AMAZING STORIES
their way around enormous pressure-ridges and over
unusually wide crevasses in the ice; which time and
again threatened disaster. Time and again they were
completely snowed under by great blizzards which struck
them down even more frequently and with greater in-
tensity than usual at that time of the year. Several
times they lost their way altogether.
At one place the party lost one of their machines irre-
trievably. In spite of the greatest care it had come un-
expectedly on an unusually wide crevasse partially
covered with snow, and fell into it, killing two of the
men, and unnerving the rest completely. In spite of
all their efforts they were unable to retrieve the machine,
and were forced to continue on their way with the
remaining ones.
Much valuable time was lost. Some of his com-
panions were for turning back ; but Thornton would not
listen to it, and drove them on. He fumed and raged
with impotence at the unavoidable delays. At times he
acted almost like a madman. But he consoled himself
with the thought that he still had plenty of time, though
none to spare.
His enemies would yet feel the power of his hand 1
* * *
Over in the headquarters of the Smith-Dykeman camp
there was great joy. The works were being completed
ahead of time. The great blow-off would take place
three months sooner than expected.
“Well, next Monday is the day of the great blow-off,”
exclaimed Ben jubilantly. “Now comes the crucial test
of all our labors.”
“Can’t come too soon for me,” replied John Dykeman.
“I am getting mighty anxious to see the climax of the
whole show and go home. Is everything all set !”
“Everything ready to a hair.” Ben mused a moment
in silence. “By the way, wonder what has become of
Thornton and his private expedition?” He turned to
Dykeman, a trace of anxiety in his eyes.
“Not a word, so far — as if swallowed up; although
there has been a sharp lookout for him.”
“Strange we haven’t heard anything.”
“The southern hemisphere is a mighty big place,
Ben.”
“Do you suppose they ran into trouble at sea?”
“That would be too bad. But then I believe the world
might manage to wiggle along without him,” and his
eyes twinkled humorously.
“For my part, that fellow can live a thousand years,
so long as he never comes closer to me titan a thousand
miles. Just the same, John, that fellow does worry me
— I mean until after the blow-off.”
“Tut-tut, my dear fellow; don’t you worry your pre-
cious head about him. Better get your mind on some-
body else back there in the States waiting for you,” and
he poked Ben in the ribs, who grinned and reddened
slightly.
Presently Ben said, “I have already issued orders for
everybody to clear out beginning tomorrow. We must
be getting on our way in order to put many miles be-
hind us when she blows.”
F AR away from the scene of operations thousands of
men were anxiously gathered, awaiting the supreme
culmination of earth’s greatest man-made spectacle.
The great moment had come. With beating hearts
and anxious minds Ben Smith and John Dykeman stood
side by side, almost holding their breath in awed silence.
A terrific tenseness gripped the vast assemblage of
workers who had labored to bring this greatest of mod-
ern miracles into being.
Ten minutes — five minutes — three minutes — one min-
ute. Ben dug his nails into the palms of his hands, eyes
glued on the chronometer. Then far in the distance the
heavens flamed, followed by a swift darkening of the
horizon. An uncanny stillness. B-o-o-m-m. From
far away came the reverberating echoes of a titanic ex-
plosion, a tremendous rumbling that shook the air vio-
lently even at their great distance. The earth quaked
with a series of shocks that threw many prone.
Clouds that quickly formed on the horizon, storm-like,
approached the spectators. Swiftly they overcast the
sky and advanced on the men who stood huddled, awe-
inspired, in fear and apprehension. No such thing had
ever been tried before.
Quickly the approaching clouds became a thick, all
enveloping mist, blotting everything from sight. The
more timorous ones turned to flee; but the enveloping
mist made flight impossible.
Then silence, and the thick mantle of fog and steam.
. . . Murmuring voices. . . . plaintive calls from the wor-
ried men. . . .
Came a breath of moisture-laden, warm air, followed
by blasts of cold. Another breath of air warmer than
the first; and others still warmer in a steady caressing
embrace. A weird balminess came through the air, like
the whispering breath of spring ; like the gentle warmth
of some invisible radiator.
The thick mantle of steam slightly lifted. And men
looked at each other in questioning amazement. . . . Had
the thing really happened ! Was it to be an accomplished
fact?
Then again the vaporous mantle of fog and steam
descended and thickened, blotting everything once more
from view. A violent wind sprung up, growing ever
more violent; blew with terrific gusts almost impossible
to withstand. Warm and cold blasts followed each other
with bewildering force ; grew steadily less and less. Then
a great calm settled over the frozen land. The steam
clouds lifted. ... A beneficent warmth like gentle spring
pervaded all the region.
G RIMLY bent on reaching their destination, Thorn-
ton and his little party labored steadily forward
with but little respite for rest. They could not be far
away now. They halted for a short period.
Suddenly a tremendously heavy, reverberatingly long
explosion, or series of explosions, reached their ears, dull
and extremely distant. They felt temblors under their
feet, the sickening feelings of an earthquake.
Thornton was startled, and looked up. What was
that ? . . . Good God ! — he was not too late ? His party
looked questioning!}' at one another. No, that could not
be.
“Let’s move on,” Thornton ordered ; “we have no time
to waste.” And the tired men moved forward, mile
after mile.
Then suddenly, in the distance, what seemed like
dense clouds appeared, and approached rapidly. These
clouds seemed to fairly leap at them. What was that!
Thornton gave orders to halt.
Anxiously they peered into the distance. Swift as
THE ANTARCTIC TRANSFORMATION
729
flight, the thickening clouds hurtled forward. In their
ears presently sounded a dull rumbling and roaring, as
of the distant sound of a huge cataract.
Louder and louder grew the sound ; vaster and vaster,
as of a- million angry spirits. They turned to flee — they
knew not from what. “God ! . . . what can that be !”
exclaimed Thornton between chattering teeth.
And then a vast, tumultuous roaring sounded ; and to
the eyes of the fear-paralyzed men a mighty wall of
angry, hissing, steaming water appeared, high and wide,
as far as the eye could see. With a thunderous roar, the
hot, swirling torrent rolled over the screaming men. The
great roaring flood rushed on.
A S soon as it was deemed safe, Ben Smith and John
Dykeman made their way as close as they could to
the brink of the raging torrent, to see first hand if every-
thing had happened according to plan.
Arriving within seeing distance, although from far
away, as it was extremely dangerous to approach too
close, they were overwhelmed by the awesome spectacle
before their eyes. Out of a tremendous cleft in the
rocky face of the earth, immensely long and wide —
seemingly too gigantic to be the handiwork of puny man
— there raged forth a mighty outgushing of pent-up
superheated waters and steam; accompanied by such a
deafening roaring and hissing, as of a thousand great
cataracts and geysers all in one. The mighty torrent
was rushing forth with explosive force, thrown high and
wide by the pent-up energies inside the earth; vast
clouds of white steam and sparkling fine mist reaching
to the skies and adding to the awe-inspiring spectacle.
The entire geyser basin was soon a vast lake of hot,
boiling water over a hundred miles long and almost as
wide. Its level rose rapidly till it reached the top of the
surrounding ice-sheet; then it overflowed north in two
broad, raging torrents, miles in width and nearly a hun-
dred miles apart, that swept all before it, following the
natural contour of the land to the distant sea.
It soon became unsafe to linger longer ; and the entire
working forces of The Antarctic Development Corpora-
tion made haste to the sea.
Already the warm torrents were rapidly gouging out
deep channels in the hundred-feet thickness of ice
through which they rushed with irresistible force. The
vast amount of heat liberated by the flowing waters lent
a balmy feel to the air, mild and pleasant in its softness.
Over the frozen land warm breezes blew. And all
around in every direction, everything was melting and
cracking and splitting; the ages-old accumulations of
ice and snow dissolving before the liberated breath of
the internal heat of the earth.
The initial work was accomplished. There was noth-
ing else to do but await the melting of the great ice sheet.
In the meantime, the two men most responsible for the
success of the great project were speeding homeward to
their loved ones ; the acclaim of the whole world ringing
in their ears.
T was twenty-five years later.
Two broad, mighty streams of warm water, a hun-
dred miles apart, were sweeping majestically to the Ant-
arctic Ocean, six hundred miles from their source, deep
down in the hot bowels of the earth.
Somewhere, from some natural subterranean intake
or intakes, an inexhaustible, fresh supply of waters en-
tered the interior of the earth ; and as it flowed along its
innumerable passages, partook of the internal heat, like
some hot-water heating system of planetary dimensions.
But instead of continuing the former subterranean way,
the liberated internal pressure now caused the waters to
complete the remainder of their journey on the surface,
in the form of two mighty rivers draining the Great Hot
Lake, and liberating the life-giving heat over a smiling
countryside.
A vast area of the formerly frozen Antarctic Conti-
nent was now habitable, winter and summer alike. Over
thousands of square miles balmy breezes blew, becoming
almost tropical as one traveled close to the mighty
streams of warm waters. And where the great rivers
emptied into the sea, they formed a broad channel many
miles wide, extending in a warm current through the
icy waters of the Antarctic, providing a safe passage for
water-borne commerce from the north.
In that great area, warmed by the twin rivers of warm
water as they wound their stately course, and in the
great area all around the Great Hot Lake, formerly the
Great Geyser Basin, a new civilization had sprung up
as if by magic; and was still swiftly growing. Green
fields and growing things greeted the eye, where for-
merly was ice and desolation. Cities, villages, industries
covered the land, connected by numerous broad high-
ways on land and by air.
For with the melting of the great ice cap, there was
uncovered an extensive surface soil, as predicted by
Benjamin Smith, rich with the life-giving fertility of a
once abundant life which had existed there in some far-
off age of warmth. Power was cheap and plentiful. In
addition, the uncovered folds of the earth revealed incal-
culable stores of valuable materials of all kinds, waiting
for the touch of man’s hand.
A happy new commonwealth in the Continent of Ant-
arctica took its place in the world, to the benefit and
enrichment of all. And none in the new land are hap-
pier now than the man who conceived the great idea,
and his loving wife.
The 'End.
730
Concluding a remarkable two-
part serial of unique life and
adventure on a far-off star.
Part II
The Stone from
the Green Star
By Jack Williamson
Author of “The Metal Man,” “ The Green Girl,” etc.
/ T has been said often that we cannot conceive that which is outside of our
experience. It might also be said, with equal truth, that everything that the
mind can imagine is possible. But neither of these statements limits possibility,
for things beyond our wildest conception may prevail outside our own sphere.
Is it, therefore, logical to assume that all forms of intelligence are housed in the
type of bodies that we know? In the following chapters our lyrical-prose writer
concludes for us a breath-taking story of unique life and adventure that will be
remembered for a long time as an example of science fiction.
Illustration by MOREY
What Went Before:
X N a little box of some unknown material, which mysteriously appears
on his library table, the relator of this tale finds several hundred sheets
of a thin, stiff, flexible material, on which is written, in the unmistakable
script of his missing, friend, Richard Smith, the following amazing story
of his disappearance:
When Smith starts down the raised bridge or walk over the waist of a
tanker, heavily laden with oil, he sees a sudden streak of luminosity. As
he stops to stare in wonder, this pillar of azure radiance begins' to spin,
steadily increasing in brilliance, until it becomes a wondrous vortex of fire,
of color. Then it explodes. He finds himself next on a huge table or
platform in a vast, six-sided room. Soon he hears a soft, interrogative
voice behind him. Turning suddenly around, he sees two persons — Midos
Ken, an old, blind man — a scientist — and his beautiful daughter and assistant,
Thon Ahrora.
He is convinced, after several hours of conversation, that he was snatched
from the present, two million years into the future, by means of a time
machine, with which the scientist and his daughter hope to draw that
substance which will rejuvenate the old and give to the young eternal youth.
Don Galeen, one of the many scouts sent in search of this substance,
returns with the news that he has located it on the Green Star, but that
it is apparently guarded by horrible creatures that almost defy eonception
by the human mind.
Garo Nark, fiendish Lord of the Dark Star, determined to get Thon
Ahrora and the secret of this much sought after substance, overhears Don
Galeen's report,, kidnaps Don Galeen and takes him to the Dark Star. The
other three — Midos Ken, his daughter and Dick Smith— decide to engage
passage to the Dark Star for themselves and for the smaller space ship Thon
Ahrora, originally built for 8 trip to the Green Star. They stop en route
and devote their efforts to rescue Don Galeen.
Thon goes to the castle of Garo Nark herself, disguised; she gains access
to Don Galeen’s cell, but is betrayed by one of the guards, and is imprisoned
too. Midos Ken and Dick Smith go to the throne room of Garo Nark to
demand the release of the two captives.
CHAPTER VIII ( Continued )
CJDDENLY he heard a low, humming note from
the pocket of his garment. The signal to call
him to the television device. A message from
Thon, at last.
He snatched the little black disk from his
pocket, and held it before his face.
It had lighted. There was a tiny picture upon it, a
bright miniature. It showed a cramped little room,
with gray metal walls. Low, metal ceiling. A poor
bunk in a corner. A narrow window, high, heavily
barred. Evidently a prison cell.
Thon was facing him, in the tiny vignette. Appar-
ently unharmed, though she looked anxious and ex-
hausted. Beside her was Don Galeen. Dick could see
only part of the mighty body, still clad in the soft buff
leather garment, ornamented with the blue shells. Don
seemed to be holding some weapon in his hand, guard-
ing them, though it was out of Dick’s range of vision.
“Hello, Dick, dear,” Thon’s voice came to him from
the little disk. The volume of sound was small, but he
731
AMAZING biORiES
could understand without difficulty holding the disk
about a foot from his face.
"We have been besieged in this cell for hours. I did
not call you up before, because your answer would
have betrayed the location of the flier. But now, that
you are here in the palace, it can do no harm. You see,
my instrument has a directional device, so I can tell
where yours is located. I called when I found you were
here in the palace.”
Dick looked up quickly, glanced about the magnificent
room.
Silence had fallen. All eyes were upon him, but no
one else could see the disk. And the volume of the
sound directed up toward him was so slight that no one
else — except Midos Ken, with his keen hearing — was
able to distinguish the tones of Thon.
Pelug, scrawny and green-eyed, was standing up to
whisper something to Garo Nark, who listened with head
inclined, frowning malevolently.
"Where are you?” Dick whispered swiftly into the
television disk. “And what can we do to help?”
"Don and I are together in a cell — a cell cut in the liv-
ing rock beneath the palace. I came here to let him
out. We were betrayed, and attacked. We are sur-
rounded here. My weapons are deadly enough so that
we have been able to stand them off. But we can’t
escape !”
“Tell me how to get down there!” Dick cried, in low
tones.
“There’s an open elevator shaft at the wall behind
Nark’s purple throne — an air elevator like those on the
liner. Get off at the level numbered 17. Go down the
corridor. Take the second passage to the right; we are
in the ninth cell.
“But don’t risk your life, Dick, dear. If you and
father aren’t prisoners, go on and leave us 1 There is no
chance that all of us can get away, out of the very pal-
ace! Father’s science, and his great discovery must not
be lost, just in attempting to save us. Leave us to
sell our lives as dearly ”
The crash of an explosion came through the disk, re-
duced to a sound no louder than the snapping of a twig.
There was a flash of greenish light, so bright that it ob-
scured the tiny picture. As it faded, Dick had a glimpse
of Thon springing back in alarm.
Then the disk went black. He put it to his ear, but the
humming stopped, and he heard no sound.
“Ape of the past,” Garo Nark addressed him jeer-
ii’gly, “you will see no more, I think. My men have put
a stop to that. You will see nothing more until the disk
lights again, to show you what is happening to those two.
“No, you need not fear that they will fall into the
hands of rough soldiers. My surgeons will take charge
of them. Very skilful men, those surgeons of mine.
They will be careful that the two do not die — too soon 1”
An ugly laugh, gloating, mocking, rang from the
purple throne. And scraggy, green-eyed Pelug echoed the
laugh of his master with a ghastly, triumphant chuckle.
“Now !” Garo Nark’s order cracked like a whip.
Dick had not heard the invisible men gathering about
them.
But, as the sharp order rang out, he heard footsteps
all about him, rushing forward. He and Midos Ken
were surrounded with a ring of Nark’s invisible men 1
Throbbing violet rays blinded him. They were at the
focus of a score of converging El Rays, thrown sud-
denly on them from all directions.
But they still wore the little metal devices upon their
wrists, to charge their bodies with the protective elec-
tronic force. Though dazzling, painfully bright, the El
Rays were harmless.
“So you are breaking the truce, Nark?” old Midos
Ken asked in a calm voice, which carried an ironical
note of pained surprise. “The ruler of a mighty planet
cannot keep his word to an old blind man? Well, this
releases me from my pledge. You must take the con-
sequences 1”
Before the old man had finished speaking, a score of
invisible men had flung themselves bodily upon them.
Dick felt heavy, unseen hands snatching at him. He
tried to strike with his fists, only to have his arms caught
in the grasp of many fingers.
But old Midos Ken was not disturbed.
A queer change had come suddenly over his body. It
was bathed in rosy flame. A rose-colored mist of pale
fire had appeared abruptly, clothing his erect old body
in a luminous aura.
And that glow of rose-pink radiance seemed fatal to
all who touched it. The air about him was filled with
screams and groans, as the invisible fighters, rushing up
to seize him, were hurled backward to the floor as if
they had touched a powerful electric eel or ray.
At Garo Natk’s cry of “Now !” the long lines of black-
garbed men along the walls had rushed forward, raising
their long jet tubes, in which violet lights were flashing.
They were already half across the room.
To Dick, still struggling with the invisible men who
had seized him, it seemed that they must be overwhelmed
by sheer weight of numbers. Garo Nark, on his purple
throne, was leering with malevolent satisfaction.
But still the old blind scientist stood alone, mantled in
a mist of rosy flame. The weapons of his attackers
could not harm him. They could not lay their hands
upon him.
Then he raised in a gnarled old hand the little cylinder
of topaz-yellow crystal that Dick had seen him use once
before, to strike down their invisible assailant as they
were escaping from the liner. It was the projector of an
actinic ray, Thon told him afterward, which caused a
slight change in the chemical composition of the neurone
fibers of the nervous system, resulting in instant paraly-
sis and death.
Guided apparently by his marvelous sense of hearing ;
he swept this little cylinder of smoky yellow crystal in a
slow, deliberate arc.
The men in black fell before the invisible ray from the
tiny weapon. Their dead bodies, queerly stiffened,
grasping the El Ray tubes in frozen hands, toppled over
like a row of wooden men. They lay in rigid, grotesque
attitudes upon the glistening golden floor. It was ter-
rible, appalling.
The little topaz-yellow cylinder made no sound, as the
blind scientist, his body bathed in the shimmering rosy
light, slowly swung it about. Nothing visible came from
it. But the men were smitten with swift, invisible death.
There was no look of triumph on the calm, blind face
of Midos Ken. His impassive features were set in a
sober, determined expression, almost sad, Dick thought.
The deliberate sweep of the unseen ray was toward
the throne of Garo Nark. Fiercely exultant, Dick ex-
pected to see him topple off his purple throne, his body
frozen in the swift death. But Pelug, the scraggy,
green-eyed man beside the throne, after a moment of
consternation, flung down a lever beside him.
733
THE STONE FROM
A SECTION of the golden floor dropped suddenly,
carrying down with it the magnificent throne of
gleaming purple crystal, with Garo Nark and Pelug.
They flashed down out of sight in an instant. There
was a heavy, metallic clang. And a great sliding valve
or cover had moved into place, closing the hole through
which they had dropped.
Dick glimpsed that sudden and unexpected retreat of
the Lord of the Dark Star through the floor of his pal-
ace. Then he turned his attention to the unseen men
who were striving to hold him.
He kicked out with all his force. He could see noth-
ing there, but his foot struck yielding flesh. There was
an explosive grunt, from the unseen man whose body he
had struck.
Then Midos Ken, whose remarkable hearing was al-
most a Second sense of sight, reached out an arm that
glowed with rosy fire. Evidently he touched the man
who had grunted. The grasp on Dick’s left wrist was
abruptly released, and an invisible body fell against his
feet.
Seizing his advantage, he twisted his right hand free,
with sudden fierce effort. A moment later he had swung
a blow with all his force at the point that, he thought,
should be occupied by the head of the invisible man from
whom he had just twisted free. His fist seemed to
strike a jaw. There was a sickening crunch, a rush of
air escaping from contracting lungs, and the dead thud
as an inert body struck the metal floor.
If there were more invisible men, they thought it time
to follow Garo Nark in retreat.
The great hall was suddenly silent. Dick and Midos
Ken stood alone, near the center of it. Between them
and the walls lay the stiff, grotesque bodies of hundreds
of the black, visible guards who had died by the actinic
ray. The few survivors had just rushed in mad re-
treat through the high arched portal of the hall, many
hundred feet away.
They were the only living men visible in the room.
Old Midos Ken reached a hand inside his garment,
apparently to touch some mechanism fastened against his
skin. The roseate glow died swiftly from about his
body. In a moment it was gone. He put out a hand,
touched Dick’s shoulder.
“A charge of high-tension electric energy,” he ex-
plained briefly. ‘‘Fatal to anyone who receives it sud-
denly, though the charge, if slowly built up, is harm-
less. Certain animals have the power of killing with
electricity, you know.”
‘‘Now we will try to find Thon?” Dick suggested
quickly.
“Yes. We must be quick. Garo Nark is defeated,
perhaps, but not vanquished. He will soon appear with
some new weapons!”
Dick was already leading the way rapidly across to
the rear of the great, magnificent hall, toward the spot
where Thon had told him to look for the elevator. He
held Midos Ken’s arm, but the old man seemed hardly to
need guidance. He appeared almost to see with his ears,
by noting the quality of sound-reflection, or echo, from
objects about him.
They reached the elevator shaft — a round open well,
three feet across, black and bottomless. A current of air
was rushing out of it, rising in a twin shaft beside it.
Without hesitation, Dick stepped off the edge. As he
fell gently through the dark shaft, he repeated Thon’s
instructions for reaching her.
THE GREEN STAR
“Get off at the level numbered 17,” she had said.
“Down the corridor. Take the second passage to the
right. And we are in the ninth cell.”
The luminous numbers were flashing past, with a rail-
ing below each, which one grasped if he wished to stop.
Dick read them. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. He
seized the handrail, swung himself out of the shaft to a
stage. Midos Ken came past him in a moment. He
snatched the old man’s arm, pulled him out of the cur-
rent of air.
They started down a narrow passage. Sttddenly two
guards in black were before them, glistening jet El Ray
tubes held threateningly. Midos Ken must have heard
some slight movement from them. He raised the smoky
yellow crystal. The two fell dead and rigid.
They hurried on down the corridor, which was dimly
lighted by a luminous, pale-yellow ceiling. Another tun-
nel opened on the right-hand side of the passage. They
passed it, reached a second tunnel, turned.
Around the corner they came upon a group of men.
There must have been fifty black-clad soldiers there,
crowded in a few yards of the passage. Some were
gathered about a curious device which looked a little
like a telescope, and somewhat more like a machine gun.
It was pointed on down the passage.
Beyond the men was a solid wall of darkness — the
edge of a cloud of utter blackness formed by one of the
ether-exhausting bombs.
At once the reason for the darkening of the television
disk flashed upon Dick. Thon had been forced to use
one of the bombs of darkness to protect herself and Don.
And the wall of blackness — a literal hole in the ether —
had cut off the television rays.
Again Midos Ken used his little topaz cylinder. The
men in the passage fell before it. They were piled in
grotesque heaps about the strange weapon, which in the
last instant of their lives they had tried to turn in the
direction of Dick and the blind man.
Again they went forward, stumbling over scattered
weapons and the stiff forms of the dead, until they
reached the wall of darkness. Midos Ken called out.
A glad shout, from Don Galeen, answered him. They
stepped into the cloud of absolute obscurity.
Dick felt his way along the wall, counting the doors
they passed. In a moment, Midos Ken, at home in the
darkness, was leading the way.
Then a soft, questing hand touched Dick's shoulder.
With a little glad cry, Thon threw herself into his arms.
Fie pressed her eagerly to him. Fie could not see her.
But her body felt pliant and strong, warm and throbbing
with vitality. He thrilled at the contact.
Passionately, he held her body against his. He bent,
seeking her lips with his. His lips brushed her fra-
grant hair, her smooth brow, her soft, warm cheek. A
sort of ecstacy filled him when his lips touched hers.
A storm of emotions and thoughts whirled through his
mind. Delight this was, sheer, thrilling ! A man might
give a lifetime for a moment of such embrace! What
if they lost, yet? What a tragedy if Garo Nark should
still seize this wonderful being for his foul uses?
“Thon! My wonderful Thon!” he murmured. “I
can’t leave you 1”
Then he heard the bluff, cheerful voice of Don Galeen,
addressing Midos Ken.
“Glad you happened along,” he was saying. “They
were trying all sorts of weapons on us, and we were
about ready to blow up the palace and quit 1”
734
AMAZING STORIES
His tone was almost casual. Such fantastic struggles
seemed a matter of course to him, the hero of a thou-
sand adventures. And this was the man Thon loved,
not himself, Dick thought. Her pleasure at seeing a
friend, and her natural relief at their coming, had led
her to the impulsive embrace. And he had presumed
upon her!
“Forgive me 1” he muttered, dropping his arms from
about her. “I’m sorry 1”
“Sorry for what?’’ she asked innocently.
So she did not understand. She had thought nothing
of it. Faint relief lessened his angry gloom. An em-
brace meant nothing to her, he thought. She had ac-
cepted it merely as a casual salutation.
“Let’s be getting out of here,” Don Galeen proposed.
“If you, Midos Ken, have weapons enough to keep them
off us out in the open.”
“We must try it,” the old scientist agreed. “The best
plan, I think, is to use an ether-exhausting bomb large
enough to throw the whole city into darkness. Then
their invisible men will have no advantage. With my
hearing, I think I can guide us safely out.”
"Good 1” Don Galeen agreed.
A FEW moments later, Dick heard the tinkling crash
as Midos Ken shattered the bomb of darkness upon
the floor.
Then they filed out and down the passage, with the old
man in the lead. Thon walked ahead of Dick, and Don
Galeen brought up the rear. Utter darkness walled them
in, rayless, absolute. It is hard for the ordinary person
to understand what such darkness means, Dick says.
Even on the darkest night, there is relatively a good deal
of light. There is some light in the darkest room, in the
gloomiest underground chamber — from radioactivity, if
from no other source. But in that Stygian blackness,
there was not the slightest glimmer of light at all.
Midos Ken, guided by his marvelous hearing, led the
way back to the elevator shaft. 'They stepped out into
the ray which cut off the planet’s gravitational pull. The
uprushing current of air swept them back to the floor
of the great hall, where they were set down gently be-
side the shaft.
Then, as silently as possible, they ran down the length
of the hall. They were in considerable danger.
“No ray weapons can be used now,” Midos Ken had
warned them as they left the cell. “Even the electric
force that killed those who attacked me in the hall will
now be valueless. For all these depend upon vibrations
in the ether. And the ether has been exhausted from
about us by the bomb.
“Your weapon, Dick, would still operate. But since
you cannot see your mark, it might be so near that the
explosion of what you hit would knock us down, as it
did you.
“So, if we run into Garo Nark’s men, there is nothing
to keep them from overpowering us by mere force of
numbers. The only advantage we have is that I am used
to utter darkness, and can guide you others through it —
while Nark and his men must be stumbling blindly
about.”
To Dick, the progress of their escape was an endless
turmoil of confusion, a sort of nightmare. He could
see nothing. He had no idea in which direction they
were going. He could only stumble on and on, led by
Thon’s hand on his arm.
There was a time — he supposes they were outside in
the streets of the city, if Nuvon, the capital of Garo
Nark, had streets— -when they heard voices. A party,
apparently, was searching for them in the darkness.
They stood still, and waited silently until the searchers
were gone.
And another party stumbled into them. They stood
as still as possible. A man blundered into Dick, gasped
with astonishment. Dick was alert, ready, having felt
the man as he first brushed against him. He got his
hands on the neck of the unfortunate searcher before he
had recovered enough from his surprise to call for aid.
He throttled that man without making sound enough
to rouse the attention of his fellows, without letting him
cry out. Later he wondered how he did it, how he found
the strength and the ferocity. Was he, as Garo Nark
had taunted him with being, an apeman from the past,
stronger than the average man of this age? He sup-
posed so, since his time was two million years nearer the
jungle.
They came upon an empty flier, it seems, in the out-
skirts of the city. It had been abandoned. Dick had
high hopes of reaching the Ahrora in it, until Midos Ken
reminded him that no mechanism using etheric vibrations
as energy could operate in this space from which the
ether was exhausted.
But that was not wholly a disadvantage, since their
enemies were also forced to keep to the ground. In
fact, it would appear that the fliers which happened to
be in the air when the ether was exhausted must have
crashed down with their crews.
Though they had no way to measure time, it must have
taken several days to reach the Ahrora. Dick marveled
at Midos Ken’s ability to guide them in the right direc-
tion, to warn them of danger. Five times they entered
buildings, to find food and water. But they did not
sleep.
To Dick it was all a nightmare, relieved only by the
calm, sure courage of Midos Ken, the daring and the
boundless good humor of Don Galeen, and the hope, and
confidence, and sweetness of Thon Ahrora.
Many times Dick felt too weary and hopeless to go on.
On each such occasion, old Midos Ken held under his
nostrils a bit of the substance from which the pungent,
invigorating vapor rose. The drug restored his strength
and courage ; he was able to keep up the struggle.
At some time during these days, Thon told him of the
adventures that had led her to the cell with Don Galeen,
where they had found her. About twenty-four hours
after she had left the Ahrora, she walked into the in-
habited areas of the planet.
The first person she met, it seems, was an old gardener
or forester, caring for groves of trees which grew on
the outskirts of the settled belt of the planet. To him
she represented herself as a wealthy citizen of Garo
Nark’s empire, a favorite of one of the governors of the
pirate planet. Dick could hardly imagine Thon, inno-
cent and ingenuous as she was, assuming such a role.
But she was successful. The old forester believed her
story and accepted the generous bribe she gave him to
assist her. She told him she wanted to reach a friend
of hers imprisoned in Garo Nark’s dungeons. He took
her to the city of Nuvon, and after exacting an addi-
tional bribe, introduced to her a kinsman of his who was
one of the palace guards.
By this time, by listening to casual gossip of the court,
she had heard about Don Galeen, the interplanetary ad-
venturer, whom Garo Nark had captured on another
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
735
planet. He was in the palace dungeons, she heard, soon
to be tortured to make him reveal the location of some
wonderful treasure he had discovered in space.
Cautious inquiry, and a few more of the diamond
tokens, brought her knowledge of the location of Don’s
cell. Another generous bribe overcame the scruples of
the palace guard against conducting her to the cell. But
after he had left Thon in front of Don Galeen’s cell, her
guide betrayed her, raising the alarm — perhaps in the
hope of another reward, from Garo Nark.
By the time the guards arrived, Thon had cut the cell
door open with her El Ray. With her weapons she
was able to stand off the guards. But she and Don were
unable to leave the cell, without meeting forces they
could not face.
Thus they had been at bay when Dick and Midos Ken
had found them.
D ICK will never forget the relief he felt when they
arrived at the Ahrora. For hours before, they had
been stumbling through the snow, over the rugged floor
of the canyon. The cold had not been painful, for cold
is merely the absence of heat, and the space about them,
from which the ether had been exhausted, was as opaque
to heat as to light. Thus the warmth of their bodies had
not been radiated and lost.
But those last hours had been hours of hell, of tor-
ture, of blind, endless effort — hours of pain. They
were hours when it took every ounce of his will to take
each stumbling step. Hours when he seemed alone in a
universe of night, and the voices of his companions came
from other far universes.
Then they felt the ship. It had not been molested —
Midos Ken had seen to it that it would not be, by setting
automatic weapons to bring down any man or ship that
ventured near it. Even without such protection, the
ship would probably have been safe — it would have been
impossible for any power of Garo Nark’s to break her
neutronium armor.
Midos Ken voiced a series of low, humming notes to
open the combination lock. He flung open the heavy
door. Dick had just consciousness left to realize that
they were safe at last, and to stumble into his stateroom.
He threw himself down on his berth, his ragged gar-
ments still clinging to his weary body, and slept the
sleep of exhaustion.
Garo Nark’s men found the Ahrora before the dark-
ness left. There was nothing they could do, however,
save wait outside, or hammer in vain on the neutronium
hull of the flier. The etherless space was shelter against
all electromagnetic weapons.
When Dick woke from a long, dreamless sleep, feeling
refreshed, though his muscles were still a bit stiff, the
darkness was still about them, a pall of utter midnight.
He was still lying in his berth when light came back.
The green, luminous walls of the little cabin burst sud-
denly into view, with a brilliance that, at first, was blind-
ing and painful to his eyes.
At once, he sprang up, and ran from his room along
the corridor to the domed bridge-room. Swinging qpen
one of the shutters over the crystal observation windows,
he saw the dark mountains about them once more, with
the strange stars above, and the dim glow of light in the
south, above the cities of the planet.
About the ship were hundreds of men. He could see
them by flares they were lighting, and in the glare of
searchlights that were turned upon the flier. Near them
was a strange machine, looking a little like a huge search-
light, Dick says, but probably a weapon erected to be
ready for use when the ether should return. A group
of men were busy about it.
Then Thon came bounding into the control room.
“Quick, the lever!” she cried.
Before Dick had had time to move, her fingers were
upon the little control lever, with its white accelerator
button. Upward they flashed from the surface of the
planet. When Dick looked for it a few minutes later,
the Dark Star was but a tiny speck of light lost in the
hosts of the unfamiliar firmament.
“How are you?” the girl asked solicitously.
“Oh, I’ll be good enough after a bath and a shave and
some clean clothes and a little breakfast,” he said, grin-
ning. “And how are you? You seem to have enjoyed
most of those things already — except of course, the
shave!”
For Thon Ahrora was beautiful, her lithe body clean
and glowing from a bath, clad in a garment of tbe bril-
liantly blue silk which was her favorite.
“Yes, I got up when it was still dark,” she was saying,
when Midos Ken and Don Galeen came up to the bridge.
The two of them had slept in the larger stateroom of the
old scientist, Don occupying an extra berth.
Don Galeen, tanned and powerful, clad in his soft
brown leathern garment, seemed unaffected by their ter-
rible journey back to the flier. His weather-beaten face
glowed with smiling good humor. He greeted Thon
with such unfeigned and unhidden admiration that Dick,
to hide his jealousy, hurried out, on the pretext of mak-
ing himself presentable again.
It was an hour later when he returned to the bridge,
shaved, washed, and freshly clad.
He found Thon conferring with her father, and mak-
ing intricate computations on a huge sheet of that white
material used as paper. Don Galeen was looking on,
evidently supplying information and suggestions.
“We are plotting our course for the Green Star,”
Thon told him. “Don is helping make a map of that
part of the universe in which it lies.
“So we are off for the Green Star, now?”
“We are already driving toward it with the full power
of the generators,” Midos Ken told him.
“How soon should we get there?”
“It is well over fifty thousand light years — it should
take over one hundred days, perhaps four months.”
Thon, Dick, and Don Galeen were to stand regular
watches of four hours each. On Dick’s first watch, a
few hours later, he fell to observing the Dark Star
through the ship’s telescopic instruments. At first the
faint speck of light that was the pirate planet slowly
grew more indistinct, as they drew away from it. But
presently it seemed to lose no more in brilliance.
“Something must have happened to the generators,”
Dick muttered. “We aren’t leaving it as we should 1”
A few minutes later, a little disturbed, he called Midos
Ken into the bridge.
“I’ve been watching the Dark Star,” he said. “And it
doesn’t seem to be getting fainter as it should. Can
there be something wrong ”
“The Dark Star still in sight?” the old man was as-
tonished.
“It is.”
“Then Garo Nark has beaten us again!”
Surprise and dazed apprehension in his manner,
Midos Ken called Thon. She looked at the Dark Star,
736
AMAZING STORIES
still visible in the instrument and growing no fainter,
and consulted her charts.
“Yes, Dad,” she said at length. “The Dark Star Is
following us.”
“The Dark Star is following us!"
Dick shouted the words, in incredulous amazement.
“Following us? What do you mean?”
“The planet is moving behind us,” Thon told him.
“Garo Nark's scientists must have developed K-ray
generators powerful enough to move their planet like a
ship,” Midos Ken added. “It has been known, for
ages, of course, that the energy of atoms is powerful
enough' to swing planets from their orbits. But never
before has it been done in practice — no K-ray generators
large enough to accomplish such a feat have ever been
built — or had been built, rather, until Garo Nark built
them !
"The Lord of the Dark Star wishes to seize the fruits
of our work for his own evil ends, of course. He wants
the secret of life; wants endless youth for himself and
his favorites.
“He would rob humanity of the secret of immortality
for his own benefit 1
"He is following us 1 Following with a whole planet.
Our best chance is to lose him, and beat him to the Green
Star.”
CHAPTER IX
Fire of the Green Star
I ONG days went by, endless and monotonous. The
Ahrora was flashing through intersellar space with
— ^ her generators developing their utmost power.
The little white cylinder of the accelerator was kept
locked down. Thon, Don Galeen, and Dick stood watch
after watch, as the little flier hurtled forward.
Faint flecks of light appeared in the abyss of utter
midnight before them and grew swiftly brighter, until
they became dazzling stars, became flaming suns, flashed
past, and dwindled behind them.
Directly behind them hung always a dim speck of
light, invisible without the highest power of their tele-
scopes. It was the Dark Star, a planet plunging after
them in a titanic chase through space.
As soon as they had found that the pirate planet
followed them, their direction of flight had been changed
a little, so that it would not give a clue to the location
of the Green Star. But the damage, Dick thought, had
already been done. The planet must have been moving
for several hours before they discovered it.
Thon and Don Galeen spent hours in the narrow gen-
erator room in the tail of the flier, nursing the throbbing
apparatus, trying to make the generators deliver an extra
ounce of power.
Midos Ken spent days in thought, trying he said, to
devise some way of making their ship invisible as Garo
Nark's fliers were. For it w.as evident that powerful
telescopes upon the Dark Star must be following them.
The ether-exhausting bombs would have met the need,
but for the fact that they would stop the generators and
make them helpless. Finally the old scientist had to
admit that here was one problem that he could not solve.
For weeks that tremendous race continued. A planet
plunging through interstellar space, headlong, in pursuit
of a tiny ship ! An empire of pirates pitted against three
men and a girl !
Slowly the Ahrora drew ahead. The point of light
that was the Dark Star dimmed slowly through the
weeks. At last, five weeks after the astounding chase
had begun, the image of the pursuer vanished from the
screen.
For two weeks more, for the sake of safety, the little
flier was kept on the same course. Then the direction
of the hurtling flight was changed.
They drove straight for the Green Star.
Don Galeen provided most of the entertainment for
his companions during the interminable months of the
voyage. Ordinarily he was not a great talker. But his
life had been one long adventure, on many planets — he
had even been born on a K-ray liner, flashing from sun
to sun. And he told long stories, for the edification
of Dick and Thon and Midos Ken. Stories of voyages
with his father, who had been owner of a small K-ray
flier trading among the planets of several suns. Stories
of the mutineers who had killed his father and captured
the ship, forcing Don, then about twelve years old, to
become a member of their crew. Stories of his life
upon the jungle-ridden inner planet of Sirius, where he
had been a driver of monstrous beasts of burden, and
had learned to smoke the tian — the malodorous drug
which he still used frequently, sitting in front of the
intake fan of the ventilating apparatus, to keep the fumes
from asphyxiating the others. Stories of other long
years of adventure, of the search for the lost K-ray
liner, of the ill-fated attempt to smuggle escaping pris-
oners from the Dark Star.
Several times he told them again of his quest for the
catalyst of life, of the discovery of the Green Star, of the
strange green fire that shone from its barren hills and
its desolate wastes of snow, of the horrors that he had
met upon that weird world, of the cones of blue flame
that were its cities, and of the alien and indescribable
entities that ruled it, guarding the catalyst.
But Don Galeen seemed reluctant to talk about it.
Horror seemed to fill him at the very thought of what
he had experienced there — though he was always glad
enough to tell of hair-raising adventures on other worlds.
Always he hastened through his story, telling them that
the Green Star and its beings were so far beyond human
experience as to be indescribable in terms of human
thought. He hastened to finish his story, and fall into
the drugged forgetfulness of the tian.
By this time Dick realized fully that he was in love
with Thon. His heart leapt at sight of her in the bridge-
room — cool and lovely in her shimmering blue garment,
body strong and softly curved, skin smooth and aglow
with health, wavy hair falling in a glistening cascade
of brown and ruddy golden gleams to her white shoul-
ders, her keen blue eyes alight with humor and the zest
of living. He thrilled deliciously at the contact when he
brushed past her in the narrow corridor. When he
slept he had dreams of her — dreams so vivid that they
disturbed his waking hours.
Several times he was on the point of telling her what
he felt. But the old inhibitions of his own age clung
to him. He had a sense of his ignorance of the culture
of this marvelous universe, even of an intellectual in-
feriority to Thon. There had been two million years
of human evolution since he was born, he thought.
Did he seem to these people, as Garo Nark had taunted
him with being, an ape? True, he could see only slight
physical differences ; but he could not be sure.
And Thon and Don Galeen seemed to be closest
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
737
friends. Dick had seen the admiration in the rugged
adventurer’s eyes when he looked at the lovely girl ; he
knew that Don fairly worshiped her. And Thon,
having known the rugged fellow since her childhood,
seemed to return his devotion with warmest affection.
Dick said nothing of his love. His mental state was
far from tranquil. But being a normal young man, he
kept in robust health, with an excellent appetite.
At her hurtling pace, the Ahrora carried them swiftly
beyond the limits of the galactic stellar system. The
Milky Way was no longer a great circle about the hollow
celestial sphere — it became a broad bar of misty white
behind them. Ever the midnight curtain before them
was studded with fewer stars. The strange constella-
tions widened, brightened, flashed past as flaming suns,
and left black and empty space before the plunging ship.
A HUNDRED days after they had left the Dark Star
a bright speck of light flashed past them which,
Don said, was Zulon, the outlying sun, from which he
had set out on his search for the catalyst. Before them
were only a few stars, far-scattered, speckling the in-
conceivable vastness of extra-galactic space.
They were plunging from the crowded star-streams of
the galactic system, out into the frozen, empty void of
space — the space between universes, trackless, desolate,
dark beyond conception.
Two days later they darted near the strange red sun of
which Don had told them, the red sun encircled with
rings of sapphire blue, and on, past it, toward a great
binary star.
It was a week later when they plunged through the net
of planets of that vast, far-off solar system that Don
had explored, finding the colossal ruins of a dead civiliza-
tion on one world, and teeming, savage jungle life on
others.
On they flashed, toward the weird Green Star, which
swam unseen in the illimitable, midnight void beyond.
Again and again, with the most powerful of their in-
struments, they searched the sky behind them, where
the Galaxy was a broad bar of silver light, seeming to
be set with tiny glittering brilliants — searched for the
Dark Star, the planet that was plunging in mad flight
after them. They did not see it.
But Dick was uneasy. They had started directly for
the Green Star, before they had known they were fol-
lowed. The invisible agents of Garo Nark, spying upon
them back at Bardon, on the earth, had probably heard
Don Galeen’s story of his voyage, of the stars he had
passed which served as landmarks.
Even if they had outrun Garo Nark, might he not be
able to find the Green Star?
Two days after they had left the great blue sun,
with its many spinning worlds, a tiny speck of green
radiance became visible in the black abyss before them.
A tiny point of green that grew slowly brighter.
The Green Star!
It grew as the hours went by. It expanded to a tiny
globe, a sphere of frozen emerald light. And the green
sphere swelled. They could see long ranges of barren,
rugged hills — glowing as if cut from darkest jade. They
saw immense, desolate wastes of snow — shimmering
with dim green light like dust of beryl.
And on a high, mountain plateau, almost at the north
pole of this weird planet, strange blue light was gleam-
ing. Cones of blue flame seemed to rise from the rugged
mountain tops.
Don Galeen seemed queerly affected. His brown eyes,
usually so alight with humor or flashing with dauntless
courage, were wide and strange, filled with nameless
horror. His mighty muscles were tensed, as if in a
silent battle with terror. His breath came in quick,
short gasps.
“Those cones of blue light !” he whispered hoarsely.
“They are the homes — the cities of the things! Things
I cannot describe! There is horror in them. Horror
that I am not anxious to face again. We must land
far away, and study them before we go near."
Nervously he fumbled for the black wooden cylinder
in which he smoked the tian. Pity in her eyes, Thon
helped him roll the little green pellet into it, and for-
bore to sniff at the reeking fumes that Don exhaled, as
he sank back into the dreamy oblivion of the drug.
It was left for the others to choose the landing place.
“It must be somewhere,” Dick suggested, “where we
can remain hidden, while we learn something about the
planet. And it should be as near as possible to the
part inhabited by these monsters that are guarding the
catalyst, so we can observe something of their habits.”
“A very good plan,” Midos Ken agreed.
“I see the very place!” Thon cried, looking at the
telescope screen. “South of the high plateau where we
see the cones of light, there is a vast, flat green desert —
a plain covered with the luminous snow. And south
of that plain is another range of hills. Let’s land in
those hills, with the desert between us and the cones of
light.”
The others agreed that the spot was well chosen. Thon
brought the flier down in a swift dart toward a little
ravine that opened upon the flat waste of snow. A few
moments and they were upon the Green Star!
The Ahrora lay in a narrow canyon, a mere crack in
the mountains. The rugged walls that rose dark about
her gleamed faintly with green luminescence. She lay
upon a bank of shimmering green snow that covered the
bottom of the gorge. The snow was not brilliantly green ;
it was no brighter than snow on the earth beneath full
moonlight. The sky above them was dark, filled with
a dim greenish dusk.
They had hardly landed when Dick noticed a strange
thing. Thon, standing near him in the control room,
began to glow with faint green light. A luminous green
mist seemed to gather about her skin, her hair, even
her garments.
Other objects in the room, the instruments, were aglow
with faint viridescence. A mist of emerald dust seemed
to hang about the room. He put up his own hand, found
it outlined in dim green flame.
“An extraordinarily penetrating radiation !” Thon was
saying. “Or it could not enter through our neutronium
walls. Even the cosmic ray could not affect us in here.”
“This is damnably queer !” Dick broke out. “It looks
like everything is afire. Even we!”
“It’s easy enough to explain,” the girl said. “This
planet evidently has a core of some radioactive material,
which emits radiations of short wavelength and very high
penetrating power. Everything they strike phosphoresces
under them, as zinc sulphide under the emanations of
radium !”
Then it was that Dick was first conscious of the horror.
Suddenly it seemed to him that the green fire was
cold, that it was chilling him. He trembled involun-
tarily, and drew his garment close against his body.
Apprehensively, he looked at the little gauge on which
738
AMAZING STORIES
was recorded the temperature of the air inside the flier.
The tiny needle had not moved; the air was really as
warm as ever.
But he shivered. Goose flesh roughened his skin. Icy
lances of cold ran through him. A peculiarly unpleasant
numbness came over his limbs ; he felt a dull, throbbing
ache in arms and legs, as if cold had penetrated to his
very bones.
He felt as if he were rapidly freezing to death, even
though the little thermometer told him the inside of the
ship was as warm as ever.
Then a strange paralysis came over him.
“I’ll jump up and down,” he was muttering through
lips that felt stiff with cold, numb and leather-like.
"Slap arms against sides — that will — ”
Abruptly it seemed as if an icy needle had been thrust
through his throat. His voice died in a gasp. He tried
to raise his arms, to flap them against his sides.
And he could not move them!
He could make his hands jerk, twitch slightly. But
he could not lift them. Too cold to move, he thought.
Frozen solid! But his eyes still moved. He looked
at the little thermometer; still it had not changed.
Then came sensations still more unpleasant.
He felt that he was falling. His conscious mind
still knew that he was standing in the bridge-room. But
he had a sickening sense of plunging down headlong
through infinite abysses of space, spinning dizzily as
he fell. The nausea, the helplessness, the horror of it
overcame him. He longed with all his mind for relief,
even for the impact when he struck. But there was no
crushing impact — it seemed that he was plunging down
forever through illimitable voids of space.
Then another vision. He knew it was a dream, for
he could see the familiar bridge-room still about him, and
the little thermometer and the other instruments. He
could see Thon standing near him, a peculiar grimace of
horror frozen on her lovely face.
B UT all of that had become dim, shadowy, unreal.
Thon was but a phantom. Even his body was a
dead, stiff thing, standing there in the little control room.
He was apart from it. The freezing cold still pierced
him. And he still fell vertiginously, affected with
nausea. He was outside his body, falling through giddy
space, yet oddly he remained beside it.
It seemed to him that he was in another space, an-
other dimension from the vague room and the dim
shadow of Thon. He was falling through another space,
falling dizzily and without end. It was a space filled
with faint blue light, a sort of frigid, blue gloom.
And monsters writhed through that dusky azure light,
slipping past him, clinging to him with hideous tentacles.
Long, worm-like things, they were, slimy, cold to the
touch as the frozen winds of Antarctica. Green writhing
worms, many yards long, coiling horribly about him as
he plunged down through unlimited abysses.
Huge green worms, that swam about him in that dim
blue light, and stared at him with eyes that were red and
utterly malignant, and hard and cold as frozen hearts
of- rubies.
Huge green worms, that wrapped him in their coils,
clung to him with tentacles utterly cold— and fed upon
him ! They pressed loathsome mouths against him,
sucked out the very essence of his being.
Ages seemed to pass. Ages of hellish torture. He felt
himself plunging down through sickening immensities of
space. Through blue fire of cold inconceivable. Upon
hideous monsters that stared at him through huge, malign
orbs of frozen crimson, and fed upon his life.
But still he knew that it was only a sort of nightmare
dream, for he could see the familiar room about him.
But what good was it to know that it was but vision,
when he could not move or speak or get aid to stop it?
Tormented ages passed.
Then he saw Don Galeen, who had been sunk in a
seat by the wall since long before they had landed, deep
in the drugged oblivion of his tian, move and struggle to
his feet. Even he seemed half paralyzed. He walked
like a man numbed with cold, or like one struggling
through a solid wall of some invisible substance that
impeded every motion.
Dick saw him get out the little cylinder of polished
black wood, in which he smoked the drug. Patiently
he watched the struggle to roll a little green pellet into
it from the vial; he tried to forget his own agony, to
watch and think of something else.
At last Don Galeen had the pellet in place, the cap
over it. He put the tube to his lips, and drew. A mo-
ment more, and his movements seemed free again. The
drug seemed to have given him relief from the horror
that had frozen him.
Swiftly he strode to Thon, put an arm about her
shoulders, forced the little black tube between her lips.
Dick, watching with painful intentness, saw the slight
heave of the breast that drew the first whiff of the vapor
into her lungs. He saw the frozen mask of horror
vanish from her face. Thon smiled in weary, grateful
relief, inhaled eagerly through the black wooden tube.
She, Dick knew, had been suffering the same horror as
himself. And the drug had given her freedom.
Suddenly she relaxed in the strong arms of Don
Galeen, sunk in the dreamy stupor induced by the tian.
Gently the mighty man lifted her, laid her tenderly
where he had been lying.
Then Don hurried to Dick, put the end of the little
cylinder between his lips. Dick struggled to inhale it,
fighting the paralysis of his muscles with all the power
of his will. At last a little of the pungent vapor came
into his lungs.
The change in his sensations was marvelous.
The sense of falling stopped — he was once more in
his body, standing firmly on the floor of the bridge. The
dusky blue light, and the unthinkable monsters that
swam through it troubled him no more. And a delicious
sensation of warmth came over his body, sweet beyond
understanding. The numbing pain of cold was gone.
With these feelings came a great sense of security, of
freedom and relief. And a great weariness and desire
for sleep.
Eagerly, as Thon had done, he inhaled the pungent
vapors of the tian, and soon fell back into the drugged
slumber it induced.
In his notes Dick has devoted a considerable amount
of space to tian, and the physiological effects of its use.
It is derived from the distillation of the kernels of a
certain small shrub found originally on the inner planet
of Sirius. It is a narcotic alkaloid, and seems to afford
the habitual user much the same satisfaction as some
alkaloids known in the present day ; morphine, for exam-
ple. The pleasure of its use seems to be even more in-
tense. And its use is free, to a great extent at least, from
the degenerative effects of the narcotics now known.
It seems to have induced marvelous dreams of de-
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
739
light and satisfaction. These dreams were remarkably
detailed and vivid — so much so that the dreamer, upon
awaking, recalled them almost as realities. They seem
to have afforded gratification of all wishes, conscious or
repressed.
Dick has given a detailed account of his own dreams
on this occasion, attempting to account for them psycho-
logically. Space forbids detailed quotations. It must
suffice to say that at the moment of waking he thought
himself married to Thon Ahrora, and living with her
in his mother’s old house near Dallas, Texas.
H E woke, to find himself lying on his bunk, in the
little stateroom he occupied in the flier. Midos
Ken was just entering the room, holding a little instru-
ment resembling an hypodermic needle.
“Hold out your arm,” the old scientist said. “I’m
going to give you an injection to protect you from the
radiations of this planet.”
“You mean you have something that will act like the
tian?” Dick cried eagerly, as soon as he was wide enough
awake to forget his dream of Thon and recall his recent
terrible experience. “Something that will keep me from
feeling that terrible cold, and the endless falling? Some-
thing that will keep off those monsters ?” He shuddered
at the recollection.
“Yes,” Midos Ken assured him, “it will do all that.
The planet must have a core of some unknown radio-
active substance. Its emanations upset our bodies. The
sensory nerves were somehow stimulated to give a sen-
sation of cold that did not exist. It somehow induced
that dream of falling, which is common enough. The
vision of the monster, I did not understand — ar-r-r-r,
they were hideous !”
The old man himself trembled, and whispered his last
words through chattering teeth.
“Then you saw them, too?” Dick cried.
“I did. And so did Thon. We were helpless in that
horror, as you were, until Don Galeen reached us with
his tian. The alkaloid neutralized the effect of the radia-
tions, and released us from the horror. I did not inhale
the fumes as deeply as you and Thon did. I have been
awake some time, preparing these injections. A radio-
active salt, in solution, which, I hope, will give complete
relief for several days.
“But those monsters! I don’t understand why we
should all see them. Dick, this planet is an alien world !
There is nothing like it in our universe. It is a wan-
derer in space, from another universe ! We are face to
face with things beyond our understanding, things utterly
weird and strange !
“We have before us such a battle with the unknown as
men have never fought before.”
He stopped, and stood there in the tiny room, silent
and thoughtful. Dick lay back on his berth, trying to
absorb the astounding and terrifying import of the blind
man’s words.
Suddenly the old man stirred, thrust a gnarled hand
into a pocket and brought out a little object which he
handed to Dick. It resembled a pocket compass more
than anything else. That is, it was a little metal case
with a transparent cover, with a needle pivoted inside.
A tiny red needle, swung on a very delicate pivot. Just
below the pivot was a miniature parabolic mirror, with a
coil of fine wire inside it, glowing with a red light.
“You see the red needle?” Midos Ken asked. “I can-
not, of course. But notice which way it points.”
Dick held the little case level on his palm. And the
red needle swung slowly about, and pointed toward the
north — or almost toward the north. It vibrated a little,
like a compass needle, then held steady.
“It points toward the north,” he said. Then he added,
almost shouting in excitement, “It points toward those
cones of blue fire we saw 1”
“That is the detector which reveals the catalyst we
are seeking,” Midos Ken told him. "It points to the
substance which will give immortal life to all humanity !
The little instrument picks up and amplifies a slight
radioactive emanation from the catalyst.”
“Then we are near success !” Dick cried.
“Near success and near failure,” the old man told
him solemnly. “We are on an alien world from another
universe. Here are powerful forces, tremendous poten-
tialities for good and for evil. If we win, we will bring
humanity the greatest boon conceivable.
“But we have roused forces — intelligences ! — that we
do not understand. If we fail, we may bring death — or
some horror worse than death ! — to all the planets of our
universe.
“Those monsters that we dreamed of are not all
dream ! They are real ! They are the guardians of the
catalyst ! And they are our enemies !”
In a few moments Thon came into the room, with a
cheerful greeting to Dick. She seemed recovered from
the horrible effects of the planet’s sinister emanations.
With a smile, she took the needle from her father, made
Dick extend his arm, and injected something into it.
“Now Don won’t have to share his precious tian with
us !” she cried, laughing.
Dick did his best to be cheerful, and to answer her
sallies in the same spirit. But he felt himself rather
unsuccessful. He did not believe in premonitions. But
he felt a .shadow of doom upon them all.
The Green Star was simply not a normal environment
for our kind of life at all. Every feature of it was
alien, hostile, menacing. It was a world from another
universe, where unfamiliar laws prevailed, and strange
forms of intelligence held sway.
Presently they went to the little galley, where Don
Galeen had set out for them a sumptuous repast of syn-
thetic foods. But Dick had little appetite. Though Midos
Ken’s injections had driven the green luminosity from
their bodies, the very dishes on the table, and the foods
they ate were aglow with faint green fire.
T HEY were in a weirder world than men had ever
dreamed of. The uncanny strangeness and the
alien horror of it were continually present; they were
oppressive.
For many days they stayed there deep in the canyon.
Thon and Midos Ken were making scientific researches
that Dick did not clearly understand. One of their ob-
jects was to analyze and determine the cause of the
strange and sinister radiations that penetrated upward
from beneath the crust of this planet, causing all objects
that they struck to phosphoresce with the green light.
There were other and more involved investigations rela-
tive to their dreams or visions of the monsters swimming
in a haze of dim blue light.
“We are dealing with an utterly alien world,” Midos
Ken said several times. “There is sentience here — but
sentience in no familiar body. We must be prepared to
deal with manifestations of intelligence that are un-
familiar or even inconceivable to the human mind.”
740
AMAZING STORIES
Not being qualified as an experimenter, Dick was
pressed into lookout duty. He dressed himself in gar-
ments insulated against the bitter cold of this sunless
world, and heated with atomic power. Every day he
tramped down to the mouth of the narrow gorge in
which they had landed the flier, and concealed himself
to watch across the snow to the north.
He was to report any unusual phenomenon over a tele-
vision disk he carried. His atomic pistol was at hand, for
defense if he happened to be discovered.
Still he dreams of those long vigils, he says.
He lay on his face in the snow, in a crack between
two boulders.. He had raised a little wall of snow before
him, for farther concealment. The boulders, and the
mountain walls behind him, gleamed with a faint green
light. And the vast desert of snow, stretching flat before
him as far as his eye could reach, shimmered with soft
emerald fire. An immense expanse of faintly glowing
green snow it was, desolate and lonely, reaching away
to the northern horizon.
There were no stars — and, of course, no moon or sun.
The sky was dark, but faintly suffused with the green
radiance of the snow. It was a green pall of gloom, dark
and dusky.
For endless hours Dick stared across toward the north,
across that waste of barren, glowing snow. He had a
little lens, of variable magnifying power, which he used
as a field glass or telescope.
It was three hundred miles and more, across that
desolate waste of luminous snow, to the rugged mountain
plateau where they had seen the strange cones of blue
flame, which, Don Galeen said, were the “cities” of the
alien inhabitants of this world. Due to the curvature
of the planet’s surface, those mountains were below
Dick’s horizon — not a single peak rose high enough to
be visible.
But sometimes he could see a blue gleam in the dusky
emerald sky above them. And sometimes there was a
flicker of other colors, of moving shapes of light. Once
he saw something reach up, that looked oddly like a hand
of purple fire. It seemed to clutch something, and draw
it down again.
And sometimes he saw tiny bright lights driving
through the green gloom above the shimmering wastes
of snow. High and swift, they hurtled in long, arched
flights. He could only suppose them to be the lights
of some flying machine.
All these things he reported to the others as soon as
he observed them, speaking cautiously into the television
disk. There was, so far as he knew, no good reason for
whispering his words. But something in the alien weird-
ness of the world about him forbade him to raise his
voice.
This lone, strange planet was far outside the streams
and clusters of stars that make up the Galaxy. The sky
was dark, with a depressing green darkness. No stars
were in view. Above the wastes of snow was an empty
void of gloom.
But, on the evening of his fourth “day” of watching —
since the Green Star revolved about no sun, it had no
actual days, of course — Dick saw a surprising thing as
he was tramping back up the canyon to the flier, over
banks of luminiferous, green snow.
He saw a star rise in the green-black sky, coming
slowly up over a dully glowing, jade-green mountain wall.
A star, where none had been before !
He ran through the snow to the flier. Thon opened
the massive door for him ; he sprang into the gratefully
warm interior of the ship.
“I see a star !” he cried. “A dim star has come up
over the canyon wall ! Can it be — ”
“The Dark Star 1” she finished for him, after a pause.
Her face went a little white, but she kept any trace of
panic from her voice. “Garo Nark has found us, after
all!”
They hurried to the bridge-room ; Thon called to her
father and Don Galeen.
Hastily, they trained the instruments on the tiny speck
of light rising so slowly into the green blackness of
the sky.
“Yes, it is the Dark Star !” Midos Ken said presently.
“Garo Nark has followed us here, with all the billions
of his pirate empire, and the resources of his outlaw
scientists. And here, outside the galactic universe, I
suppose we shall play the game to the end.”
Thon turned from a little device in which she had
been following the motion of the new star ; she seized a
writing instrument and made a few brief calculations.
“The Dark Star is now following a regular orbit about
this planet,” she said. “The two of them will revolve
about their common center of gravity like the components
of a double star. The space between is several million
miles, of course. But Nark’s fliers can flash across it in
a few hours!
“We can expect visitors from the Dark Star 1”
“What are we going to do about it?” Dick demanded.
“We can do no better than to stay here until our re-
searches are finished,” Midos Ken said, after a pause.
“We are pretty well hidden; Nark is likely not to dis-
cover us.”
CHAPTER X
The Thing of Frozen Flame
T HIS chapter is exceedingly difficult to write in-
telligibly and convincingly. Dick covers the inci-
dent quite fully in his notes, of course. But the
task of converting his rather rambling and disjointed
discussion into concise, coherent narrative, always diffi-
cult, is made harder in this case by the nature of the
material.
The difficulty, I suppose, lies in the natural limitation
of the human mind. We think in terms of experience,
recalling images of things we have seen, and that have
been pictured to us. When one comes to deal with
something quite outside human knowledge and human
experience, it is very difficult to find terms with which
to describe it. And the thing I must write of now is,
from its nature, almost inconceivable to the human mind.
Even after weeks spent in the study of this section of
Dick’s manuscript, I am fairly sure that my own images
of what he describes are not entirely accurate. For the
sake of accuracy, I have ventured to introduce no new
terms of my own. I have limited myself almost entirely
to the use of Dick’s phrases, merely editing them, and
for the sake of brevity, omitting extraneous matter.
Many times, in the foregoing pages, I have been called
upon to deal with strange and amazing things. But, for
the most part, those astounding creations of the future
are things that men have already dreamed of in our
own day. The idea of travel through space, for example,
is familiar enough, even if the fact is amazing; but now
we must deal with something so new and strange that
the very conception of it is hard to grasp.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
741
'About twelve hours after Dick had returned to the
flier with his news of the Dark Star's coming, he re-
placed his heavy garments, and went down to the mouth
of the canyon to watch again. He had slept and eaten
well. The experiments in the flier seemed to be proceed-
ing satisfactorily. The Dark Star, wheeling slowly across
the sky, had set — without giving them any reason to fear
that they had been seen. Dick set out in a cheerful,
confident frame of mind, with the lilting notes of Thon’s
farewell ringing in his ears.
But no man could be cheerful long, under the gloom
of that green-black, starless sky, in a world where
mountains and deserts of snow glowed with ghostly fire.
Dick felt oppressed with the strangeness of it ; despite
Midos Ken’s injection, he felt a slight return of the
horror that had seized him when they landed.
And he was beginning to suffer from a strange delusion
or hallucination. It seemed to him that the very planet
was alive! Beneath those weird luminous mountains,
and those barren, lifeless wastes of snow, he thought he
could sense an intelligence, hostile and malignant. He
felt that unseen eyes were watching him.
But this, he thought, was merely a foolish idea. It
came to him again as he tramped back through the
strangely shining snow to his hiding place ; and he tried
resolutely to thrust it from his mind.
He reached his crevice between two boulders, repaired
his little bulwark of snow, and lay down behind it, letting
his eyes rove over the endless ocean of shimmering green
snow to northward, stretching away desolate and dead
to the black rim of the gloomy sky.
Hundreds of miles across that ocean of snow were
the “cities” of the beings that ruled this planet. Those
mountains, and the cones of blue flame they had seen
upon them, were below the line of Dick’s vision. Even
the sky above them was dark; there were none of the
moving lights he had seen before — not, at least, for
several hours.
He lay there in his covert, waiting. Three times Thon
called him on the television disk, having grown anxious
about him. He assured her, each time, that he was safe
— and prolonged the conversation until the demands of
her experimental work called her away.
He had been there many hours when he first saw
the thing.
First it was a tiny point of light. It drifted up from
the point on the horizon where he knew the alien “city”
was ; it arched in swift flight above the rim of the green
snow.
It did not drop from sight as others had done. It
continued toward him, obliquely. It became a bright
speck of fire, driving through the obscurity of the sky.
Dick watched for several minutes. First in interest
and wonder — then with numbing fear, as it came nearer
over the endless expanse of gleaming snow.
Suddenly he thought of the little telescope that Midos
Ken had given him — it seemed to be no more than a
pair of simple lenses, which could be adjusted to vary
the power of magnification. Quickly he raised the little
instrument, and adjusted it.
The thing must have been flying rapidly, but it was
still so far away that he was able to keep it in focus
with ease. And it was a thing so astounding, so alien, that
he fell into a sort of paralysis of wonder and fear. He
was so astounded that he quite forgot the little television
disk in his hand, over which he should have reported the
coming of the thing to Midos Ken.
The difficulty I mentioned above begins with the de-
scription of that thing. It was like nothing that has
ever existed on earth; but Dick, in his notes, could
describe it only in terms of earthly experience. We have
only his description.
The body of it, he says, was like a worm or snake.
It was slender, long and writhing. And transparent, or
at least semitransparent. And it was green. The surface
of it was glittering, somehow granular or crystalline
and sparkling with green light. Dick says that a worm
moulded of green, translucent jelly, and rolled in pow-
dered emerald would present the same appearance. —
though that seems a rather clumsy comparison.
And green lights were pulsing through this trans-
parent body, he says, like blood in a living animal. Its
rhythm was, he says, like that of the blood in the
translucent membrane of a frog’s foot, seen through the
microscope.
The thing had wings — or delicate structures that re-
sembled wings. They were gauzy and transparent,
glistening with cold iridescent lights. They were so
delicate that they looked unreal like lacy webs of frozen
rainbow. And they did not beat as the thing flew ; they
remained stiffly extended. The thing seemed to glide
along.
There was a head or face of a sort. Two eyes, high
at the upper corners, red and malignant. Their fire
was strangely cold and malevolent. Dick found it un-
pleasant even to look at those scarlet orbs through the
telescope.
Between the eyes and below them was a strange organ,
a sort of flat disk of the green, semitransparent substance
of the thing.
And on each side of the face was a bright oval spot
that glowed with purple light.
T HAT completes Dick’s first physical description of
the thing. He says himsel f that it is unsatisfactory,
that it gives no real idea of the monster that he saw
bearing down upon him. He adds comments.
The substance of it did not look exactly like real
matter, it seems — not like the matter of our universe.
It was bright, and luminous, and semitransparent, with
strange colors pulsing through it. And it seems that
it gave Dick the impression of being very cold — cold as
the absolute zero.
Frozen flame is the best phrase Dick found to de-
scribe the body of that alien being. It had the brilliance
of flame, in its glistening green body, and shining,
malignant red eyes, in its shimmering iridescent wings,
and the ovals of vivid purple at the sides of what Dick
called a head. And the transparency of it, as well as
other qualities more illusive, made it as different from
any matter of our universe as flame is different from
red-hot iron. It was real and substantial enough, how-
ever. And there was something about it that made it
seem frigidly cold, colder than the frosty air of the
sunless planet of its abode.
Dick refers to it subsequently as the Thing of Frozen
Flame.
It was flying toward him very rapidly.
In a few minutes the image of it filled the lens through
which he looked. It blurred suddenly, and he lowered
the little telescope.
To his consternation and horror, the creature was no
more than a mile away, flying swiftly toward him, above
the shimmering ghostly desert of snow. Its brilliant
742
AMAZING STORIES
colors were very bright against the gloomy green-black
dome of the sky.
He could see it very plainly, at that distance. The
writhing snake-like body, green, glistening, and the mo-
tionless gauzy wings, glinting with flashes of cold iri-
descence. The red eyes were hard and cold and malignant
as frozen rubies. There were strange, oval spots of
purple light on the sides of its head.
Though it was moving very rapidly, the wings did
not beat. Dick somehow got the impression that it
moved through the agency of some invisible force. The
frail wings seemed merely to guide it.
He knew that it had seen him, that it was coming
toward him. Cold sweat of fear bathed his body. Hor-
ror claimed him for a moment; it took all his will to
shake off the numbing paralysis.
He snatched up the little television disk.
“Something is coming toward me!” he gasped into
it, when Thon’s face appeared, nervously questioning.
“It’s seen me! It’s coming after me! See!”
He held the disk a moment so that she could see the
weird entity rushing down upon him at such appalling
speed. Then he flung it aside, and sprang to his feet.
He started over the snow, back up the canyon toward
the flier, running with stumbling steps. Despite his
utmost efforts, it seemed that he could not exceed a
snail’s pace.
Panic overcame him. Wild fear surged through his
mind. Heart pounding wildly, he bent forward and ran
at the limit of his speed. And it seemed that he was
hardly moving. He muttered curses, and breathless gasps
of fear.
Then he stumbled over a boulder, and sprawled on
his face in the luminous green snow.
He scrambled breathlessly to his feet, looking back.
Some of his self-possession was restored.
“Damn fool, to lose my nerve and run like thatl” he
muttered. “If it gets me, I can die like a man, anyhow !”
Though he had run only a score of yards, the amazing
being of frozen flame had covered fully half the distance
between them. It was now not over a half a mile away.
The frozen red eyes, glittering and cold, were fixed
upon him in a bright, hypnotic stare.
Dick’s atomic pistol was in a belt at his side. Now,
with a quick, instinctive motion, he snatched it out, threw
it up.
Trying to hold it on the incredible thing before him, he
pressed the trigger as rapidly as he could. The weapon
made no sound; there was no recoil. But a faint spark
of purple fire seemed to leap from it with each stroke of
the trigger.
His target was too far away, and moving too swiftly, to
be an easy mark. Anyone who has practised with an
automatic will realize the difficulty of hitting a compara-
tively small object, half a mile away and moving rapidly,
with such a weapon. And Dick’s atomic pistol, while
its amazingly destructive projectiles carried many times
farther than a pistol bullet, was no more accurate than
an ordinary automatic.
He had little hope of scoring a hit with those first
shots, except by a freak of luck. But he knew that his
aim would be deadly within a hundred yards or so.
He did not get to try his skill, however, at such a
range.
He had pressed the trigger hardly half a dozen times
when a writhing, tentacular shape of luminosity was
suddenly extended from one of the curious ovals of
purple light at the sides of the monster’s head. A twist-
ing bar of purple flame was thrust out.
And it became detached from the creature. A bar
of misty luminosity, of frozen purple flame, floating free.
It straightened, and came toward Dick in swift, arrowed
flight.
A straight bar of cold, red-blue fire darted at him
like a lance of flame hurled from the purple oval on
the head of the Thing of Frozen Flame.
It struck him. And it seemed alive. Snake-like, iti
coiled about his body. A rope of cold purple fire, it
wrapped itself about his feet, entwined his body, drew
down his pistol arm.
It is hard for us to imagine it. A living rope of flame,
thrown about a man from a distance of half a mile. Dick
says it was some two inches in diameter, and several yards
long — long enough to wrap itself about him several times.
It was almost completely transparent — there was a bright,
hard line of purple fire down the center, with a shining
red-blue mist about it, brighter toward the core. And
little pulsing fluctuations of brilliancy seemed to throb
along it, as if it were an artery pulsing with blood of fire.
It is almost inconceivable to our minds that those
weird beings of the Green Star should be able to sep-
arate such living matter from their bodies, and control the
motions of it at great distances from them. The control
of mind over material things is familiar enough to uS.
It is nothing amazing when a man’s hand closes in
response to a message from his brain. But, with us, a
man’s control over his hand ceases if that hand is
severed from his body.
The Thing of Frozen Flame, as Dick called it, was of
a different kind of matter from that found in our uni-
verse. And its mind — for it was intelligent, in an alien,
dreadful sort of way — controlled the matter of its weird
body. But that control, apparently, was not over physical
nerves, but by the agency of some force, probably some
form of . etheric or electromagnetic vibration, that is
independent of a material medium.
D ICK’S rather lengthy speculations about the matter
will appear in full in “A Vision of Futurity.” Space
does not permit me to go into this interesting question at
greater length, here.
However it may have been done, the monster was able
to hurl a part of itself at Dick, across a distance of half
a mile, which it coiled around his body, holding him
helpless until the weird being — or the rest of it — arrived.
As he waited, Dick’s sensations were peculiarly un-
pleasant. He strained every muscle in his body in a
furious attempt to break free of the thick rope of red-
blue fire that held him. But it seemed to have the
strength of steel. And there was alert intelligence in the
way it took instant advantage of his every motion to
entwine him more securely.
The thing was bitterly cold, inconceivably cold. Cold
seemed to be part of its nature, as warmth is of the
higher animals. Dick supposes that the strange substance
of it is chemically stable only at temperatures near the
absolute zero. The piercing, numbing cold of it pene-
trated his heavy garments; he shivered with its strange
chill.
Thre was horror unutterable in waiting there. Alone.
In a strange world, frozen and barren. A planet outside
our universe, where the sky was black, and the rugged
mountains and the barren wastes of snow shone with
eldritch emerald light. He was held helpless by a rope
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
743
of pulsating purple flame. And bearing swiftly down
upon him was an entity so strange, so inconceivable, that
he found no better name for it than the Thing of Frozen
Flame.
Dick trembled, shivering as much from ungovernable
horror as from the intense, penetrating cold radiated from
the luminous coils that bound him ; he was breathing
swiftly ; his heart was pounding. And a cold sweat had
broken out upon his body.
After his first wild and frenzied struggle, he realized
that physical strength would avail him nothing against
the terrible, living energy of the red-blue rope of fire
entwined about him. He forced himself to relax his des-
perate, panic-stricken efforts to break loose. He tried
to calm his dazed brain, to consider, to think.
His time was all too short. The amazing creature was
not half a mile away, over the desolate plain of shim-
mering green snow. It was gliding down toward him
at the speed of an airplane. He had no idea what its
intentions were— but he knew that it was malignant, alien
to humanity; and he was terribly afraid.
What was the chance of rescue? He thought of the
Ahrora, the wonderful flier a few hundred yards behind
him, with Midos Ken aboard, and Don Galeen — and
Thon. And he was suddenly sorry that he had told them
of this creature, over the television. What could they
do against such a thing as this? He hoped that they
remained hidden, that they made no attempt to save him.
The atomic pistol was still in his hand, held against
his side by the luminous coils about him. He must cling
to the weapon. He might have a chance to use it, if he
were cautious. It was his only hope.
Then he relaxed completely. He dropped his head,
let his eyes half close. His shoulders sagged. But he
kept the muscles of his right arm tense, kept the weapon
firmly grasped. The strange coils of purple fire about
him supported his weight ; they did not let him fall.
He dropped back, inert, relaxed. And he kept in such
a position that he could watch the weird entity gliding
so swiftly toward him.
Long, snake-like body, green and glittering. Slender
wings glistening with iridescence, like wisps of frozen
rainbow, like lace of diamond needles. Cold crimson
eyes, lidless, unwinking, utterly alien and malignant.
Strange ovals of purple light at the sides of its head —
from one of them had come the rope of frigid fire that
bound Dick so securely.
It glided swiftly toward him. The wings were mo-
tionless. It seemed to move by mere will, as the part of
it that had come to seize Dick had moved. The mind of
it seemed to move matter by forces unknown to us.
Dick recoiled from it, trembling with utter loathing,
with horror that, he says, is inconceivable. Chills tra-
versed his spine; icy sweat seemed to congeal upon his
limbs. It took all his will to keep from making another
mad struggle. But he waited, relaxed.
The thing reached him, it hovered over him, fifty
yards high.
A winged serpent, green, semitransparent, shining,
with glistening wings and malevolent red eyes, bright
and luminous as crystal — as flame. And cold — incon-
ceivably cold — a thing of frozen flame.
Abruptly, he was snatched up toward it.
The rope of purple fire lifted him in its frozen em-
brace, carried him toward that thing of nightmare hang-
ing above.
Dick struck as it swung him off the earth. He moved
as swiftly as he could, trying to catch the monster un-
awares. The coils of fire about him had relaxed a bit.
With a sudden twisting motion, he slipped his pistol arm
from under the coil that held it, flung up the weapon,
and fired at the glistening thing of cold fire above him.
The concussion was terrific, deafening. He was flung
to the ground. And he was, he thinks, unconscious for
an instant.
Then he was lying on snow that shone with pale cold
green.
He was free. The rope of purple light was rapidly
uncoiling from around his body.
And the thing he had fired at lay on the snow not
far from him.
It was shattered.
The body of it was crushed. It lay scattered about
the snow like great blobs of jelly, translucent and crys-
talline. The frail iridescent wings were shattered into
a thousand prismatic fragments, glistening like diamonds.
The red eyes were in a mangled fragment of the greeii
body, half buried in the snow.
But the thing was not dead.
Dick saw the part that had been the head lift itself
out of the snow, rise a few feet into the frozen, gloomy
air. It hung there. At first it was a mangled, hideous
thing. But swiftly it changed ; it resumed its former
appearance.
The strange, unwinking red eyes shone malignantly
again.
And the rope of purple fire that had coiled about Dick
writhed quickly toward the head, through the gleaming
green snow. It leapt from the ground, toward one of
those luminous violet patches at the sides of the head. It
struck the oval, streamed swiftly into it, vanished.
The part of the monster that had come to bind Dick
had returned to it.
And one by one the shattered parts of the body
glowed with strange throbbing fire of life, lifted them-
selves from the ground and leapt up to it. Swiftly, all
was put back together, as it had been before.
It was incredible, uncanny.
It was inconceivable to the human point of view, to
the human mind familiar only with the life of this
universe.
Dick stood staring at it, in dazed wonder, and horror.
He was uncertain what to do. If he tried to run away,
he knew the creature would be complete, ready to pursue
him again, before he had gone fifty yards. He thought
of trying to blow it to pieces again. But he feared
that the fragments might be about as dangerous as the
entire being.
H E hoped that it would go away, and leave him
alone.
Tense and alert, he stood there, staring at the alien
entity that was so weirdly reassembling its shattered
fragments. He kept the weapon on it.
At first his mind had been dazed with incredulity and
horror. Now he was himself again. He could admit
the reality of the monster. And it was not wholly in-
vincible. He had blown it to pieces, and secured at least
temporary freedom — even if the thing were putting itself
together again.
“What do you say?” he called challengingly at it.
“Want another dose?”
The thing was watching him. Those red eyes were
inches across, deep and glowing with cold crimson fires.
744
AMAZING STORIES
Two feet of the glistening, translucent green substance
of the thing separated them. They had no pupils, no
lids. They did not wink. They were steady, bright,
intensely malignant.
The stare was hypnotic.
Dick fought against it.
“Damn you!” he shouted. “I’ll blow you to hell!”
His voice somehow died in an uncontrollable choking
gasp.
He tried convulsively to pull the trigger of the pistol.
His muscles were frozen ; he could not move.
The horror that he had felt upon the landing came
over him again. Bitter cold, numbing, torturing, all
pierced him with icy needles. He felt again that ver-
tiginous sensation of endless falling. Queer blue dark-
ness seemed to come about him.
He felt the weapon drop from his nerveless hands.
Then he was lifted from the green snow. By some
force he could not understand, he was wafted toward the
glittering thing of frozen fire. Shining, rope-like ten-
tacles of purple flame, intensely cold, streamed out of
the violent ovals on its head. They coiled swiftly about
him, drew him up to the monster.
He was held against that green, translucent, worm-
like body.
Intense cold from it struck into him — bitter cold,
numbing, freezing, piercing his body.
He tried in vain to struggle. His paralyzed muscles
would not respond to his will. He felt that sickening
sensation of plunging down through an illimitable abyss
of cold, dim, blue light. And he felt oddly apart from
his body— as if the amazing will of the creature had
crowded out his mind, and taken its place.
His body, he knew, had somehow become a part of
that alien being. Its muscles were controlled by that
inconceivable intelligence, as the rope of purple fire that
had bound him had been.
Then the strange, disk-like appendage on the thing’s
face, between the red eyes and below them, was pressed
against his body. A broad disk of green, jelly-like sub-
stance, pulsing with lights that were the life, the blood,
of it.
The tentacles of red-blue fire held him in their frozen
grasp. And the green, viscid disk was pressed against
his breast. Cold from it struck into him, numbing, gelid,
bitter.
And the disk sucked. Something streamed out of him
into it. It was not blood — it was the very life of his
body.
Vampirism! The thing was sucking out the very
essence of life. He felt shrunken, weak, exhausted.
Suddenly he >vas feeble and old. He had no longer the
strength to struggle against the paralysis that overcame
him, against the freezing grasp that held him against the
revolting, worm-like body of viscid, frozen jelly.
Suddenly it quivered. He felt a shock of alarm run
through it. The inconceivable mind of it seemed shocked,
dismayed.
It dropped him on the green snow.
He lay there, too weak and sick to rise. The vertigo
was gone, the sense of endlessly falling. The intense
cold of the thing no longer stabbed him with numbing
lances. He felt no longer the sickening sensation of hav-
ing his vitality sucked away.
But he felt exhausted, feeble, trembling. He felt old!
With an effort he turned his head. He saw what had
alarmed the thing.
Thon was coming.
Fleetly, she ran down the canyon, over the shimmering
banks of green snow between the faintly gleaming dark
cliffs. She was not swathed in heavy garments ; she wore
only the slip of soft blue silk. But her lithe body was
nimbused in rosy flame. An aura of roseate radiance
clothed her — as old Midos Ken had been clothed when
he defied Garo Nark in his throne room on the Dark
Star.
Swiftly she ran down toward him, across the ghostly,
gleaming green snow. In one small hand she grasped
a thin black tube, no larger than a lead pencil. She had
no other weapon.
“Go back!” Dick cried. “My God, go back!”
But she did not hear him. His voice was queerly
changed. Its ringing volume was gone. It was shrill and
high ; it cracked unexpectedly. It was the voice of an old
man!
The monster hung in the air above Dick, surprise and
alarm in its bearing. A long green worm, winged, with
red eyes, and all semitransparent, bright and glittering, as
bright as flame. Somehow it seemed not material, as we
know matter — yet real enough, and cold — cold beyond
conception — a thing of frozen flame.
“Go back!” Dick tried to call again, in a voice so
queerly cracked and weakened that he hardly recognized
it. “Go back before it gets you !”
But Thon was still running toward him, slender, lithe
and graceful as a wild thing, lovely. She was like an
angel, he thought disjointedly, with that nimbus of rosy
radiance bathing her body.
The monster struck.
From one of the violet ovals on its head a long writh-
ing rope of frozen purple fire streamed out. It straight-
ened toward Thon. It separated from the body of the
monster. Arrow-like, it sped through the air toward
the girl.
Dick groaned, tried to rise, fell back into the luminous
snow.
It struck her. But it recoiled from the rosy mantle
about her body. It fell back into the snow, a writhing
snake of cold red-blue light, writhing like a wounded
thing.
Then Thon raised the little black tube.
A narrow jet of blackness leapt from it. A straight,
fine black line stabbed from it toward the monster. It
did not look like a black ray — it seemed a solid bar
of utter blackness.
It struck the glittering monster.
And the weird thing recoiled. It seemed hurt — and
frightened. It darted backward from its position over
Dick. And the writhing rope of cold purple flame that
had fallen beside Thon was suddenly drawn back to it,
and streamed up into a violet oval.
' I 'HE being of frozen fire retreated. It darted away,
over the shimmering plain of green snow, driving
fast and low. Before Thon had reached Dick’s side, it
was gone from sight, in the direction of the cones of
blue fire below the horizon.
“Why did you come?” Dick cried as the girl dropped
to her knees beside him — cried in that strange, querulous
new voice of his. “It might have taken you.”
Thon gasped as she looked into his face. And he
read horror in her wide blue eyes — dazed, uncomprehend-
ing horror, and heart-breaking pain.
Just a moment of that recoiling horror, and then she
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
745
broke into tears, and lifted him against her breast. She
lifted him into the roseate nimbus that mantled her.
Fiercely she pressed his body against hers. She kissed
him. And her tears rained upon his face.
“Oh, Dick !” she sobbed. “Oh, my Dick! Why did I
let you watch alone ? Why did I ?”
“What’s the matter?” he demanded in the thin, shrill
voice that sounded so hideously strange. “What has
happened to me?”
He wondered that she was able to lift him so easily.
But Thon did not tell him — evidently she could not.
She merely held his body to her, and sobbed out her
grief.
In a few minutes Don Galeen appeared. He came
running down the dark canyon from the flier, over the
gleaming green snow. His mighty, bronzed body was
clad only in his soft leathern garment, with the blue
shell ornaments. Like Thon, he, too, was wrapped in an
aura of soft, roseate radiance.
He came as fast as he could run.
Eagerly, fearfully, Dick watched his face. He saw
horror and unbelief come over it, at sight of himself.
The gigantic adventurer gasped, seemed to whiten a little.
Then, with deep pity on his rugged face, he bent down
and lifted Dick up like a child.
Without a word, he started back over the snow toward
the Ahrora, carrying Dick in his mighty arms. Thon,
silent and white-faced, walked along beside him.
They reached the flier. Don carried Dick inside, and
down the corridor to his stateroom. He laid him gently
on his bunk.
For a few minutes longer Dick was conscious. He
knew that they were busy about him, that they made a
hypodermic injection into his arm, that they made him
drain a glass of some effervescing liquid, which had
a sharp, sweetish taste. And presently he slept.
He was alone when he woke.
He felt oddly tired, exhausted, weak. With some
effort he threw back the light cover over his body, raised
an arm. He stared in horror at the withered, gnarled
hand that came up before him.
His hand should have been strong, smooth-skinned,
ruddy with fresh blood, and tanned a little. But it was
a yellowed claw, shrunken, bony, covered with bloodless
skin, wrinkled and dry.
He cried out with amazement and horror. And the
voice was not full and rich. It was shrill, broken, queru-
lous with age.
Abruptly he sat up and looked into the mirror on the
wall of the little stateroom. He shuddered in disbelieving
horror at what he saw ; almost he screamed.
He looked at the features of an old man.
His body was shrunken, bent. The skin that covered
his bony frame was loose, dry, creased with a thousand
wrinkles, yellow with age. His face was shriveled,
seamed, nose and chin projecting. His eyes were deep-
sunken, dull, feeble. His hair was turned white as
snow.
He looked as old as Midos Ken.
The others had heard his cry. They came into the
room, silent, pitying. Thon came quickly to him and
put her arm around his bent shoulders.
“What’s happened to me?” Dick demanded in his shrill,
unfamiliar voice.
“That thing was a vampire!” Thon whispered. “It
drew the life out of you. It left you old !”
“We are searching for the catalyst of life, you know,”
said old Midos Ken. “Age is a chemical process — and
there is a chemical which keeps us young. It is that
chemical that we want to make — it is the very essence
of life. The body grows old as it is depleted, as the
ductless glands secrete no more.
“And the vampire sucked that chemical from your
body. It sucked away your youth, your life. It made
you old !”
“Will I be this way always?” Dick cried. “It there
no hope — ”
“You will get stronger, of course,” Midos Ken told
him. “But you will never be young again — unless — ”
“Unless ?” Dick repeated breathlessly.
“Unless we succeed in finding the catalyst of life.
Then we can make in the laboratory the precious vital
fluid that was sucked from you. We can make you
and all men young again, for so long as they want to
live !”
“And can we find the catalyst?”
“We will have to fight the beings of this planet —
the race of the one that attacked you. We will have to
invade the cones of blue flame that are their cities.
“And we shall have to fight Garo Nark.”
“His ships have come to this planet?”
“They have. They have found us. Two of them
have landed in the canyon below us. They came several
hours ago, while you were still sleeping. Garo Nark
talked to us over the television. He offered to join
forces with us, in return for immortal life for himself
and his favorites — and for Thon.
“We refused, of course. And he is waiting. Waiting,
I suppose, for us to win the catalyst, so that he can step
in and rob us of the spoil !”
CHAPTER XI
The Cones of Blue
S TEADILY Dick grew stronger, as his body manu-
factured the vital fluid of which the inconceivable
vampire — the Thing of Frozen Flame — had robbed
it. On the second day, he was able to walk unaided up
the corridor to the bridge. A week later, he was feeling
well — though he sadly missed the buoyant vitality of
youth of which he had been cheated. He was an old man,
short of breath, stiff of back, easily fatigued. But, Midos
Ken told him, he was as strong as he would ever be —
unless they won the catalyst of life from the weird race
of vampires that guarded it.
On the day that he went to the bridge, Thon pointed
out to him the fliers of Garo Nark which were lying near
them in the green-black gloom of the narrow canyon.
Strange-looking things they were, covered with the
light-absorbing substance which made them invisible in
the darkness of space. It reflected no light at all — the
ships could not actually be seen. They seemed merely
black shadows, holes in space, against the green lum-
inosity of the snow and the canyon walls — mere blobs of
nothingness, vague-edged shadows of darkness.
They were stationed close together, and down the
canyon from the Ahrora. They lay just above the covert
between the boulders, from which Dick had watched,
and where the weird entity of cold fire had found him
to suck away his vital force of youth.
Vague, half-invisible, somehow almost painful to the
eyes that watched them, those waiting ships were strange
things, ominous. Dick stared at them a long while.
746
AMAZING STORIES
Don Galeen was busy over some little device set
against the wall — a device that had little quivering needles
which he watched intently. Thon was busy with an in-
volved computation, a queer writing instrument in her
slender fingers flying over a smooth white sheet. Midos
Ken was sitting silent and motionless, his blind eyes
shaded — but his finely trained mind, Dick knew, was
directing whatever was in progress.
“How are the experiments coming?” Dick inquired of
Thon when she looked up from her calculation.
“We are studying this planet,” she told him, “the
strange radioactivity that causes the green luminiscence
of the rocks and the snow, and the various phenomena of
the intelligent life of the planet that our instruments can
detect.
“There is a link between the radioactivity and the life
of the monsters that inhabit the planet. Under those
emanations, and in the intense cold of this atmosphere,
Chemical combinations are stable that could never exist
in our world. The conditions here are as necessary for
the alien being we have found as they are hostile to us.
“We are discovering the forces that might be used
against us, and planning our defense.
"Already we have accomplished something. You re-
member that rose-colored haze of light that was about
me when I came — came to help you.” She shuddered at
the recollection of the vampire-monster. “It is a screen
of stable free electrons, an electronic armor that shuts
opt the strange radioactivity that causes the green phos-
phorescence — it is opaque to the short waves of that
radioactivity, and to the long waves of heat, while it lets
light through. You can see through it. But it is warmer
than any insulated suit. And it shuts out those sinister
emanations 1
“And the monster could not touch me through it. It is
protective against its strange substance as against the
radioactive vibrations that make that substance possible.”
“And the things you drove it back with — the black
ray — ” Dick asked. “What was that?”
“It was not really a ray. A development of Dad’s
ether-exhausting bombs. It drives the ether out of a
long, thin, cylindrical section of space. And the ex-
haustion of the ether, cutting off these emanations, seems
harmful to the monsters.”
Suddenly a mellow, chiming bell-note rang from the
side of the little bridge-room — the signal that someone
was calling on the television.
“Nark again, I suppose,” Thon said. “No harm to
hear what he has to say, anyhow.
She moved a little lever. A television screen lighted
on the wall. The heavy, evil features of Garo Nark
appeared upon it, visible against a background that evi-
dently was the wall of a flier’s control room. There was
a cruel mouth, a huge, jutting nose, and deep, malignant,
black eyes.
His mighty shoulders were in sight, with his garment
of crimson silk fastened over one of them. And Pelug,
the scrawny man with green, snake-like eyes and
scraggy yellow beard, was standing behind his master,
looking over his shoulder.
"Enough of this foolish waiting!” Garo Nark began,
in a heavy, brutal tone. “What can you do alone? A
blind old fool ! A girl ! An ignorant adventurer 1 An
ape from the past ! You are insane to fight me and the
perils of this planet at once — ”
The thick voice stopped suddenly as he saw Dick. And
then he burst into harsh, jeering laughter.
“And look at the ape!” he shouted coarsely. “The
ape from the past! Did his hair turn white with the
horrors of space? Or does he just begin to remember
that he was born two million years ago?”
He laughed brutally again.
“Thon Ahrora, my pretty one,” he began, leeringly,
“I have a place ready for you in my palace. Come to
me. Let me help your father win the secret of life.
And we’ll be happy forever, darling !”
And at Thon’s white-faced wrath he burst again into
roaring, bestial laughter.
With a swift motion of her hand, the girl threw over
a lever that darkened the screen.
Dick looked out through a port at the two black ships
that lay, shadowy and unreal, below them in the canyon.
In a moment the pale violet finger of an El-ray
beam flickered from one of them. It struck the faintly
luminous face of the cliff behind the Ahrora. A huge
cloud of steam puffed from it, to fall in a white flurry
of snow.
More El-ravs stabbed out, seeking the little flier. And
among the pale, flickering violet fingers of them were
broad beams of mellow golden radiance.
“ A NEW ray!” Thon cried. “Dad, they are attacking
Z*. with a golden ray !”
“One of the ether-exhausting bombs, daughter!” the
old scientist cried. “It will plunge us into darkness,
and stop the experimenting. But we can afford to take
no risk — ”
“My God,” Dick broke in. “Look at that !”
He pointed down the canyon. Above the black, in-
distinct blurs that were the half-invisible fliers, the green-
black sky was visible, a little scrap of the shimmering,
ghostly green expanse of snow could be seen.
Scores of little points of bright light were visible in
the dusky green gloom of the sky, above that bit of desert
horizon. They moved with amazing speed. They were
driving down toward the fliers of Garo Nark.
“They are like the thing that attacked me !” Dick
cried. “Dozens of them. Coming back!”
In a few moments they were clearly visible. Shining
green worms, with slender, iridescent wings, and huge
eyes, red and malevolent, glittering things, with the
brightness and transparent unreality of flame. And they
were cold — so cold that they seemed to chill the eyes
that watched them — they were things of frozen flame.
On they flashed, scores of them, toward the fliers of
Garo Nark.
Suddenly the direction of the violet and golden rays
was changed. No longer were they played upon the
Ahrora. They flashed across to meet the horde of swiftly
flying monsters.
Despite the rays, the vampire-things came on. They
seemed unharmed. And they struck back.
Slender arrows of frozen purple flame flew from them,
and struck the half-invisible ships. They writhed over
the fliers, coiled about them. In a few moments the
ships were dark shadows covered with a bright net-work
of the shining purple ropes.
The ships were lifted.
They were swung free of the shimmering banks of
green snow, carried swiftly in the direction of the flying
rows of monsters.
Streamers of violet luminescence swirled back front
their tails, as their crews fought to jerk them free of the
net of living purple rope that held them. But the K-ray
THE STONE' FROM THE GREEN STAR
747
generators, powerful as they were, were no match for the
weird power of the vampire things. The ships were
helpless in the writhing coils of frozen purple flame that
held them.
In five minutes, ships and monsters alike had vanished.
Garo Nark had been captured by the alien entities of
cold fire. His ships had been carried off, in the direction
of the cones of blue light beyond the horizon.
The Ahrora remained apparently undiscovered.
Midos Ken, Thon, and Don Galeen continued their
experimental work. Dick rapidly convalesced, until he
resembled a hale old man of about seventy years.
Seven more days went by. Nothing had been seen
of Garo Nark, or of the vampire things that had cap-
tured him. The experiments were finished.
“We know as much of this planet as observation from
this one point will teach us,” Midos Ken said. “And
we have devised means of protection against the hostile
forces we have found. We are ready, now, to try to find
the catalyst.”
Once more they gathered in the little bridge-room.
Thon inclined the bright control lever, pressed the white
cylinder of the accelerator button. The bank of shining
green snow dropped away beneath them. The Ahrora
darted upward, past the luminous walls of the canyon,
into the green gloom of the starless sky.
Again the girl moved the little lever. The flier ceased
to rise.
Straight northward they flashed, low and fast. The
luminous desert of snow raced backward beneath them,
a flat and desolate plain, shimmering with weird green
radiance. Above them arched the sunless sky, almost
black, faintly flushed with the green light from the snow.
Their speed, Dick knew, was well above a thousand
miles an hour. At this rate they should reach the moun-
tains beyond the desert in a very few minutes.
Each of them wore, fastened to the arm, a tiny, hum-
ming mechanism which charged the body with electro-
magnetic energy, producing about it the roseate lumi-
nosity of the electronic screen. Both of them were bathed
in a clinging mist of rosy light. It was their armor
against the vampire-things, as well as against the bitter
cold of the outer air. And each carried, thrust in a
pocket of his slight garment, one of the slender tubes
which projected the ether-exhausting force, so as to
make a thin, stabbing bar of blackness.
“A few hours— perhaps only a few minutes — and we
shall have won or lost,” Midos Ken said, sitting thought-
ful by the wall.
Don Galeen was bent over a little device on a stand,
watching spinning needles.
Dick had nothing to do but to watch.
He looked at Thon, intent over the control lever. Such
a girl! So gloriously beautiful. So vital. So young.
He loved her i
A few days ago he had been as full of the buoyant
force of life as she was, brimming with life and energy.
And he had let foolish doubts and fears hold him back,
keep him silent. And now he was old. He flexed a
twisted arm. He felt its muscles — stringy, flabby. He
cursed under his breath.
Then he saw Don Galeen raise his eyes for a glance
at Thon. Bright eyes. Flashing with courage, with the
fire of youth. And filled with admiration for Thon, with
devoted affection.
“I hope they are happy!” Dick murmured to himself.
“I’m too old to think of love.”
He felt a tear in his eye, and brushed it angrily away.
In a few moments rugged mountain peaks came into
view above the edge of the ghostly, shining desert of
snow. Dark and grim, but outlined with faint fire of
green, they rose against the green gloom of the sky.
Above them, beyond them, were cones of blue light.
Vast conical heaps of cold blue radiance, motionless and
dim. Scores of them, scattered across a rough moun-
tain plateau — scattered irregularly, yet somehow suggest-
ing the buildings of a human city. They were cones of
frozen blue flame, faintly resembling the conical wigwams
of an Indian village.
“Look!” Dick cried suddenly. “They are coming!”
Bright cold points of light were darting through the
sides of the vast blue cones, flying rapidly toward them.
By scores, by hundreds, the vampire-monsters were ris-
ing to meet them.
Dick raised his telescope lens. In it he could see them
clearly, long worms of cold green flame, with motionless
wings of flashing diamond light, and frozen, evil eyes
of ruby. There were strange ovals of violet on the sides
of the heads — behind the green, viscid sucking disks.
Some of them seemed to have dark protuberances —
humps — upon their backs. But these he could not see
clearly enough to distinguish what they were.
Frozen arrows of red-blue fire sped from those weird
ranks, toward the Ahrora.
In a moment the air about the little flier was filled
with twisting fiery streamers — writhing ropes of chill
purple fire. They coiled about the little vessel, wrapped
it in a living net of flame.
Their headlong speed over the desert of shining snow
was suddenly checked. The luminous ropes had stopped
them. Thon moved the useless lever, holding the white
accelerator button at the bottom of its socket.
The Ahrora trembled a little. But the full power of
her K-ray generators could not break her loose. The
things of cold fire were dragging them down to the
snow.
“The electronic armor!” Midos Ken cried. “Quick,
Don Galeen 1”
Don Galeen was still stooping over the little device
on the stand, watching the vibrating needles. Now he
adjusted a little dial, moved a lever.
A nimbus of rosy flame spread suddenly over the
little flier, over the surface of every object within it. It
was a mist of roseate radiance such as mantled each of
the adventurers.
The writhing streamers of cold purple fire were hurled
back from the ship. They fell away below it, twisting,
contorted, evidently injured.
The Ahrora leapt forward again. The vampire-things
— the winged worms of cold bright flame — darted back,
made way for her. Again Dick noticed the dark objects
upon their backs. But still he could not distinguish
them clearly.
They flashed toward the faintly shining mountains,
leaving the groups of blue cones of light on the rugged
plateau behind them.
In a few moments they reached the edge of the waste
of shining snow, where the black foothills rose. It was
still a score of miles to the plateau of the cones, which
was a full mile above the level of the desert.
But the cones were of amazing size. Dick guessed
that they must be thousands of feet thick at the base,
and a mile in height. There were scores of them, irregu-
larly scattered over the green, gleaming plateau.
748
AMAZING STORIES
It was a city of colossal cones of frozen blue light ! —
an alien city of an alien world, inhabited by inconceivable
vampires— spawn of an alien universe!
And the four were rushing toward it on a daring raid,
to win the greatest treasure that man has ever sought —
the secret of immortal youth !
“We’ve won!” Dick was shouting, when they had
passed through the weird ranks of the monsters, and
were darting over the edge of the desert of snow. “They
can’t do a thing against the electronic — ”
He stopped with a gasp.
Abruptly, the Ahrora was falling!
They had hurtled through a straight wall of silver
haze, hardly visible. Beyond it, the power of the gen-
erators quickly slackened. The little flier plunged down-
ward, in a long spinning flight. Thon struggled in vain
with the control lever.
“npilEY are broadcasting some disturbance that in-
A terferes with the K-ray!” Midos Ken cried. “It
stops the generators as my ether-exhausting bombs do,
but doesn't interfere with the vision 1”
Still they spun downward, toward the foot of the long,
rugged slope that led upward toward the plateau of the
cones. The K-ray generators were still functioning,
though very weakly. Thon was able to check the fall
only enough to keep the impact from being fatal.
The Ahrora struck heavily on a rugged slope of dark
boulders that shone with faint green luminosity. She
rolled over twice, but came to rest lying almost in a
normal position.
Thanks to her indestructible neutronium hull, the flier
was not injured. And the K-ray device which protected
the passengers by transmitting all shocks and pressures
equally to all particles of matter in the ship, had still
functioned sufficiently to save the four from any serious
injuries, though they had been flung roughly against
the floor.
“Pride goeth before a fall,” Dick muttered, as he
got to his feet, rubbing a bruise on his head. “And some
fall it was, this time 1”
The others were uninjured. In a moment, Thon’s
cool fingers were tenderly caressing his bruised head.
“Poor dear!” she cried. “I hope you aren’t hurt.
You were so strong, before — ”
She choked, and stopped, with tears glistening in her
glorious blue eyes.
“Watch 1” Don Galeen’s deep voice rang out warn-
ingly. “They are coming.”
"They can do nothing, I think,” Midos Ken said.
“Our electronic screen is still intact. They cannot break
it.”
Dick swung open one of the observation ports. He
saw that the little flier lay on a rocky mountain slope.
Huge boulders, glistening with dim green radiance,
loomed here and there about them. Above them was a
jutting outcrop of stratified rock. There was an occa-
sional patch of snow, shimmering with greenish phos-
phorescence.
But there was no grass, or shrub, or tree. Our fa-
miliar kinds of life did not exist upon the Green Star.
Its only living things were the weird entities of frozen
fire — unless, as Dick had imagined, and Midos Ken had
hinted, the core of the planet itself were alive!
Above them was the black bowl of the sky, faintly
flushed with the deepest green.
In that gloomy void, bright specks of light were visi-
ble. The vampires, wheeling above, some of them
dropped, became visible as winged worms of frozen
emerald light. Writhing serpent-shapes of cold, purple
fire sent from them, darted cautiously toward the
helpless flier. Things of red-blue light fell in the snow,
slithered snake-like about them.
But still the roseate radiance covered the fallen ship
and the four within it. The ropes of fire could not pene-
trate that electronic armor. Those that touched it darted
back, as if injured.
For an hour, perhaps, the monsters wheeled above
them. Then they vanished, flying northward, in the di-
rection of the astounding city of cones.
“They have gone,” Dick reported. “For a while, at
least.”
“And it’s time, too, for us to leave,” Midos Ken said.
“Where?” Dick demanded, his aged voice eager with
sudden hope. “You mean we can still go on?”
“Of course. I had not counted on being able to enter
the cones of light with the Ahrora, in any event. I had
hoped to get closer, of course, before we landed. But
we are ready to go on afoot. I had imagined that they
might be able to stop our generators — but I did not know
their ray would be effective at so great a distance.”
Half an hour later they opened the massive door of
the flier and stepped out upon the desolate mountain
side. Since the rosy electronic screens that nimbused
them held in the heat, they had no need for heavy gar-
ments; they wore only the light, sleeveless slips. Each
of them was armed with one of the little tubes that
projected the bar of blackness. Dick carried his atomic
pistol — the weapon with which he had blown one of the
monsters to fragments, only to see it reassemble itself.
Thon and Midos Ken carried other weapons and instru-
ments. Upon Don Galeen’s broad shoulders, in addition
to his weapons, he carried enough synthetic food to ration
them for several days.
The Ahrora was locked. The electronic screen was
still in effect to protect it from the Things of Frozen
Flame. Midos Ken had scientific traps set about it to
protect it from Garo Nark, in case that worthy should
still be able to molest it — though since they had seen
Nark’s fliers captured and carried away by the vampire-
beings, the latter precaution seemed superfluous.
In single file, they started up the long, rugged moun-
tain slope, among colossal fields of boulders that gleamed
with pale green light, over shimmering banks of snow.
Don Galeen, mighty adventurer of many planets, broke
the trail, tramping effortlessly along in the lead. Dick
brought up the rear, feeling faintly envious of the rugged
giant ahead. A few days ago he himself had been
such a man ; now he was a shrunken shell. But — and his
heart leapt at the thought — if they won, his youth would
be restored.
In a few minutes the little red cylinder of the Ahrora
was out of sight — lost in the waste of dark, faintly
gleaming boulders behind them.
For weary hours they climbed — struggling up per-
pendicular cliffs, picking a way across vast flat fields
of broken, volcanic lavas — black rock that dimly fluo-
resced with green. They were leaping yawning cracks
that seemed to reach down in endless green abysses,
and tramping across wide fields of snow, sinning and
green, that masked unexpected pitfalls.
When possible, they kept to canyons and ravines,
for the sake of cover. Twice they saw one of the vam-
pire-tilings. wheeling high, as if to watch the Ahrora.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
749
Each time they crouched in the shadow of a convenient
cliff or boulder, and waited until the strange scout had
returned beyond the line of peaks that rose before them.
When they first stopped to rest, they had covered half
of the score of miles from the flier to the top of the
range. They were exhausted by the hours of effort —
all except Don Galeen, who seemed never to tire — but it
seemed to Dick, when he looked about, that the slightly
luminous peaks outlined against the black sky ahead were
as far away as ever, and that it was a mere stone’s throw
behind them to the edge of the shimmering, barren ex-
panse of the desert of green snow.
D ON Galeen picked out a wide cave beneath a jutting
rock, in which they stopped. They ate heartily of
the synthetic food he carried, and drank water obtained
by melting snow over a little atomic stove — aside from
its fluorescence, the green snow was no different from
any other frozen water. Then they slept, Dick, Thon,
and Don Galeen taking turns in standing guard at the
mouth of the cavern.
Rested and refreshed, the next “day” they went on
with renewed vigor. Hours of toil led them across the
last snow-covered lava bed. They climbed the last boul-
der-strewn slope, and stood upon the summit of the range.
A few hundred feet below them, and a mile away,
was the city of cones. City of the Things of Frozen
Flame!
It is hard to imagine it.
The weird city stood upon a rugged plateau, pitted
and cracked — evidently covered with lava hurled from
a dead volcano. Black rock, rough and broken, was
seamed with a thousand fissures. It gleamed with soft,
green luminescence. Here and there upon it were patches
of shining snow.
Scattered across it for a distance of many miles were
the cones. Cones of intense, cold blue light, of frozen,
solid light! They looked substantial as cones of azure
crystal, as cones of sapphire!
They were colossal.
Two thousand feet through they were at the base —
and more. And they were over five thousand feet in
height — a mile. They were huger than any buildings
ever erected on earth.
Hundreds of the vampire-things stood upon the vast,
volcanic plateau — some of them tens of miles away.
They were scattered irregularly. The surface of the
ground had not been smoothed among them. There were
no paved streets. The twisted flows of lava were rugged
as they had always been. The cones of blue seemed to
have been dropped on unbroken wilderness. The Things
of Frozen Flame were not confined to the surface of
their planet as men are.
The four flung themselves flat when they reached the
summit of the range, and watched.
Scores, hundreds, of the vampire-things they saw.
Winged green worms, with glistening iridescent wings,
and evil scarlet eyes. Alien things with the queer un-
reality of frozen fire.
They glided out of the smooth sides of the cones of
cobalt light. They flashed across from cone to cone.
They vanished upward in the air, or off toward the
horizon. They detached writhing things of frozen purple
light from their bodies, and sent them flashing off on
unguessable errands.
It is almost beyond imagination, that city of an alien
race upon an alien star. Its weird beings were intelligent
— in their dreadful way. Considered from absolute
standards, their advancement may have been equal to
that of man. They were so different from humanity,
from anything that ever lived on the earth, that they
are almost beyond conception.
They had no machines — but what need had they for
machines when they could dart through space as swiftly
as an airplane, or separate matter from their bodies which
assumed any shape they desired?
They had no industry- — at least, no industry as we
know it. They had no need to make machines, or to find
fuel to feed them. Evidently they did not toil as men
do to feed themselves. It was only later that the four
found out how they fed themselves — now the act of
incredible vampirism upon Dick was the only clue.
For an hour the four lay there, watching.
Then Thon produced a little red needle swung in a
crystal case — the detector of the emanations from the
catalyst of life. She balanced in on her palm. The
tiny scarlet needle wavered — then pointed straight at the
base of a blue cone that stood before them, on a little
knoll that rose slightly from the surface of the plateau,
not two miles away.
“The substance we seek is in that cone!” she said.
“In sight — at last!”
“We are ready to go down and play our hand,” said
Midos Ken, “to win or lose!”
They rose from their places of concealment, left the
summit of the range, and advanced briskly down the
easy slope to the level of the lava plateau.
Dick’s heart was beating high, almost in his mouth.
They were in plain sight now, there was no use to try
to conceal their advance any longer. It all depended
upon the science of Midos Ken, and the skill of lovely
Thon Ahrora, and the courage and strength of Don
Galeen — pitted against the alien forces of this world 1
The treasure was near. The wonderful substance that
held the secret of life 1 Immortal youth of all humanity !
Restoration of his own lost vitality! So near, yet
guarded so strangely and so well 1
They plunged down the rocky slope almost at a run,
toward the colossal, towering cone of intense blue light
at which the little red needle pointed. They must pass
another cone, which stood nearer, to reach the one on the
little hill.
They had gone a score of yards. Nothing had hap-
pened. But several of the glittering entities of cold
light were in view, gliding from one cobalt cone to an-
other.
“Look out!” Dick cried suddenly.
An arrow of frozen purple light came flashing at them
from the nearest cone. It struck Don Galeen, recoiled
from the haze of roseate radiance about him, and fell
on the rocks like a writhing snake. And a dozen more
sped after it, until the air about them was filled with
twisting ropes of fire.
They were discovered!
Then a score of the beings of cold fire came into view,
gliding swiftly toward them from a far-off cone of chill
azure light. They had long, thin, worm-like bodies of
glistening green, semitransparent, wings like frost of
rainbow mist, and eyes of frozen scarlet.
Swiftly, they flashed toward the four. As they came,
Dick saw that they had what seemed to be black pro-
tuberances upon their backs, like those which had
swarmed out to meet the Ahrora. Nearer they came.
He saw what the black things were. And he gasped.
750
AMAZING STORIES
They were men !
Men, clothed in heavy garments, were mounted upon
the glistening green worms, riding them astride.
One flashed forward, ahead of the others. It stopped,
hanging in the air a dozen yards before them. Its body
of green, semitransparent substance was thick as a barrel,
many yards long. A huge man, a giant, was riding as-
tride on it.
Dick made out his heavy features through a trans-
parent mask that protected his face.
The strange rider was Garo Nark, Lord of the Dark
Star!
lie bowed mockingly, with an ironic salutation.
“Welcome, friends. I trust, fair Thon Ahrora, that
you have repented of the hasty act that ended our last
interview — that you have come to be my bride. And I
trust that you, Midos Ken, wise man that you are, have
come to see the way of wisdom — that you are willing to
help me to find the secret of life.”
For a long time silence only answered him. The four
were dazed. More incredible even than the vampire
things was the fact that Garo Nark should seem to have
mastered them.
“You are amazed — even you, greatest scientists of the
universe?” Nark asked, jeeringly. “These things are
my friends. They carried off my ships, as you doubtless
saw. But they could not open them to get us out. We
came to a deadlock — they could not reach us ; we could
not get away. So we established communication. A
sort of picture-writing — which they developed by means
of their own until it is almost telepathy.
“I told them of you. I told them you had come to steal
the thing that is the very food of life to them. The
stone in the cone of blue fire yonder.”
He jerked his thumb at the cone at which the red
needle pointed.
“I offered to use my knowledge to fight you, in return
for my freedom. They are intelligent — strange as they
are. They accepted. Now they regard me as a power-
ful friend.
“So I give you four fools one last chance to surrender.
If Thon will come to me — if you will help me get away
with the stone of life — I will save your lives. If not —
I will use all my own science, and all the alien power of
this planet, to crush you 1”
Midos Ken held up a solemn hand.
“Garo Nark, you already know our answer,” he said.
CHAPTER XII
The Catalyst of Life
AS one, the four stepped forward, over the glistening,
green-black lava, toward Garo Nark. All fin-
gered their weapons.
Black rage flamed on the evil face of the giant who
sat upon his monstrous steed. He was a man on a winged
worm, on a dragon of cold fire. He flung out a heavily
wrapped arm, in a signal to the weirdly mounted men
behind him.
“Fools, you die!” he shouted. “You may defy me.
You may defy the masters of the Green Star. But
together, we can beat you 1”
The men upon their flying vampire-steeds wheeled
closer. In their hands the men raised long tubes of
black crystal, like the El-ray projectors. Garo Nark’s
weird mount wheeled, carried him back to join them.
At a gestured signal from him, they leveled the weapons.
Rays of cold fire stabbed from them.
Beams of frozen light they were — cold as the azure
cones of that alien city — icy blue beams that flickered
about the four in a glacial aurora.
It was a projected ray of cold — a ray that absorbed
all heat from objects it touched, that lowered their tem-
perature to the absolute zero. A weird and amazing
weapon, the joint product of the science of the Dark
Star and of the unearthly arts of the beings of the Green
Star.
The very air before those chill blue rays was cooled
to the point of condensation. It fell in frozen mist —
in tiny hard particles, that glittered like frost of sapphire
in the cold blue of the rays.
Boulders, that the icy, azure rays fell upon, cracked
and split — splintered explosively by the terrific, con-
tracting force of cold.
Even the roseate nimbuses of electronic armor about
the four were not completely proof against it. Dick felt
those glacial rays of icy blue bite through his body. He
trembled, shuddered with cold. His teeth chattered.
Midos Ken, shivering and almost helpless with the
sudden, unexpected chill, fumbled futilely with a weapon
he held in his hand.
Strange horror came with those frozen blue rays.
Dick felt a sudden return of the nightmare paralysis that
had gripped them all when they had landed — from which
Don Galeen had saved them with his tian, until Midos
Ken could prepare his protective injections.
Bitter cold pierced him numbingly. He felt again that
appalling, vertiginous sensation of endlessly falling
through a limitless blue abyss. And he fancied weird
worm-shapes swarming about him in the void, clinging
to him, sucking away the substance of his life — as that
unthinkable vampire of cold flame had taken his youth
from him a few days before.
Then Midos Ken, forcing his hands to move, produced
an object from his pocket. A black tube or bulb of
crystal. It was, Dick knew, one of the ether-exhausting
bombs, which brought complete darkness. He dashed it
against the glistening volcanic rocks upon which they
stood ; it shattered.
Instantly, utter blackness enshrouded them. It was a
pall of ebony opacity, inconceivably black. No faintest
ray of light came through it. It was like a fluid of black-
ness poured about them.
It stopped the cold blue rays, and grateful warmth
came tingling to Dick’s body again.
“Dick, dear,” Thon’s soft voice came to him through
that wall of utter midnight, “where are you?”
He moved toward the voice. Gentle fingers reached
out, touched his shoulder, caught his hand and drew him
toward the others.
“We must all hold hands,” she said. “It is the only
way to keep together.”
“I’m an old man !” Dick thought angrily. “I can’t take
care of myself ! She has to look after me 1”
No sound came to them from their enemies.
“I have used an ether-exhausting bomb,” Midos Ken
said. “It seems to paralyze the monsters. Their nerve-
currents, you know, are a sort of etheric wave, which
can reach through empty space to control those shapes
of purple light they send away from their bodies. We
were able to pick up those waves, in the Ahrora, and
study them. My bomb has exhausted the ether, and
stopped the waves.”
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
751
“Then they are helpless !” Dick cried.
“Those outside the cones of blue light are helpless.
But the object we seek is inside one of the cones. And
if my theories of those cones are correct, the ether-
exhausting force did not extend there. We will still
have to fight any of the things that happened to be inside
the cone that we must enter.”
Again they went forward. Midos Ken was in the
lead, picking a way through the absolute darkness with
the aid of his marvelous hearing. By listening to the
reflected sounds, or echoes, he could guide them surely
forward, avoiding the boulders that scattered the rugged
boulder field. Don Galeen came behind him. And then
Thon, leading Dick by the hand.
They had to travel nearly two miles through that utter
midnight, to reach the cone. Dick had no way of mea-
suring the time that passed. But it seemed to him that
they spent ages stumbling forward in the darkness.
Then abruptly Midos Ken stopped them with a low
word.
“We have reached the edge of the cone,” he whispered.
“The darkness ends in a sheer wall. Beyond is frozen
blue light, with the monsters floating in it — the Things
of Frozen Flame!
“I walked into it, felt the cold of it before I could draw
back. Step forward, one of you, and see if I am not
right.”
Dick stepped quickly forward, Thon’s hand still clasped
with his.
Indeed, he stepped out of the rayless blackness, into a
vast space filled with cold blue light. A cone of chill,
azure radiance. He could see the curved opposite side—
a wall of utter darkness — half a mile across it. And the
point, a mile above.
It was a hollow cone of light, as if a dead-black liquid
had been poured over a transparent cone of glass, in
which a blue light was shining.
Its floor was of rough, black volcanic lava, burned,
cracked and twisted, scattered with huge, fire-glazed
boulders and broken with the yawning black holes of
lifeless fumaroles.
The Things of Frozen Flame, apparently, lived wholly
above the ground. They had no need, it seems, to
smooth its surface, to make floors or roads.
Dick saw a score o_f them, floating in the chill blue
light, a thousand feet above the rock floor of the cone —
long, worm-like bodies, glittering, green, semitransparent,
with frail, prismatically glistening wings, and huge eyes,
scarlet and malignant.
S TRANGE sensations came upon him when he stepped
through that wall of blackness into the cone. He felt
bitter, numbing cold biting into his body. He felt a reel-
ing, dizzy sensation of falling, so that he could hardly
stand erect.
This vast space of chill blue light, with the writhing,
worm-like monsters of icy fire floating in it, was, he
knew, connected with the hideous dreams he had expe-
rienced-dreams of dizzy, endless falling among writh-
ing, clinging things that sucked out his life.
“Here is the detector,” came Thon’s low voice through
the black wall of the cone. “Look at the red needle that
points to the thing we are after.”
Her white hand, clad in rosy flame, appeared through
the gloom. Grasped in it was the tiny, compass-like de-
vice, with the scarlet needle. He balanced it upon his
hand. The needle pointed toward the center of the cone.
He looked in that direction. The black, rugged floor
of the great cone rose in a low hill. The summit of that
hill was in the center. Upon the summit was a low
pyramid of what seemed a dull black metal — a sort of
pedestal or altar.
Upon the pyramid of black rested an amazing thing.
The red needle pointed straight at it. Dick knew that it
was the catalyst of life, which Midos Ken had sought
through the universe.
Like a great diamond, it was, flashing with prismatic
rays of many colors, quivering rays of sparkling, living
light darted from it, of hot, pure scarlet, of intense,
ethereal blue and vivid green, bright as if it were the
pure essence of life. Some were of warm orange, deep
violet, flame-yellow. Every color of the spectrum
flashed from that strange crystal.
And among those rays was a new color, indescribable,
for it is like none known before. Some combination of
rays, which affects the human retina as those of no
known color.
Then Dick saw two of the vampire-things he had not
seen before. They swam down toward the great crystal
through the chill blue radiance, and hung motionless over
it. Their green disk-like, sucking organs were extended
toward it — drawing in its living fires 1
They were feeding!
They consumed the force of life that streamed from
the strange gem.
Then a sudden movement drew Dick’s attention toward
one side of the great cone. There he saw one of Garo
Nark’s fliers. Semi-invisible, it was a vaguely defined
blur of nothingness, among the black, volcanic rocks.
A strange machine was set up beside it. There a few
men were busy. And another of the Things of Frozen
Flame was hanging over the machine. This, Dick sup-
posed, was the telepathic device by means of which Garo
Nark had established communication with the monsters.
All of that he saw in a very few seconds.
Suddenly the monster above the machine darted down.
One of the men was lifted by a twisting tentacle of chill,
purple light, which had been abruptly extended from a
violet oval on the side of the monster’s head. The ten-
tacle deposited him upon the long, green body.
The Thing of Frozen Flame came plunging toward
Dick, with the human rider clinging to it. The man
raised a black, crystal tube. From it stabbed an intense
blue ray, flashing like a glittering sword of cold through
the dim, frozen blue gloom of the cone.
A ray of cold. It struck Dick, pierced him numbingly.
His teeth chattered. He was paralyzed with cold.
Then Thon tugged on his hand, drew him backward
into the rayless wall of darkness. They retired a few
yards from the edge of the cone. Dick related, in a
whisper, his account of what he had seen.
“The crystal on the black pyramid 1” Midos Ken cried,
when he had finished. “That is the catalyst. It is the
rare treasure that I have sought for so many years !
“It is not strange that the monsters guard it so well —
its life-giving emanations must be their very food. They
may have been originated by the force of its rays alone.
“Now we must enter the cone. Fight our way to the
crystal. Take it, and make good our escape. And we
will have given humanity the greatest treasure of all
the universe!”
Side by side the four of them burst through the wall
of darkness into the cone of chill blue light.
Three steps they advanced inside the tenebrous wall — ■
752
AMAZING STORIES
four steps. Dick was watching alertly. He saw the
Things of Frozen Flame drop swiftly from where they
swam, high in the chill blue light of the cone. He saw
them drop beside the half-invisible flier, pick up men
armed with long black tubes, put them astride themselves.
The monsters came darting at the four invaders, and
carried the armed men mounted upon them.
Arrows of frozen purple light darted from the violet
ovals on the monsters’ heads at the party led by Midos
Ken, blind as he was. Twisting, tentacular shapes of
red-blue fire struck at them, recoiled, fell writhing about
their feet. The roseate nimbuses still clung to the
bodies of the four, enclosing them in electronic armor
impregnable to the things of light.
Frozen blue rays, intensely bright, radiated at them
from the jet-black tubes carried by the riders, rays that
absorbed all heat. The air before them fell in crystal
flakes that glittered like tiny sapphires.
Dick shivered, shrank involuntarily, and the rays
smote them with numbing cold, even through the rosy
electronic screens. Bitter cold was piercing his limbs.
And suddenly he was afflicted with the nausea of falling,
so that he reeled and stumbled.
The monsters, with their weird riders, were flashing
down upon them.
“Try the black tubes!” tersely ordered Midos Ken.
They raised the slender tubes, which projected the
ether-exhausting force. Bars of blackness stabbed from
them. But only for a few feet. At a distance of half
a dozen yards the tenebrous bars faded, vanished. They
did not reach the monsters. The ether-exhausting force
refused to function in the glacial blue light of the cone.
The winged green worms, with their human riders,
were upon them. Black-clothed men, impatient with the
slow effects of the chilling rays, leapt from their in-
credible winged steeds and advanced on foot, a score
of them, hastening to join in physical combat.
One leapt at Dick.
Instinctively, he snatched out his atomic pistol. He
had almost fired it, when he recalled that the explosion
was likely to be fatal to himself, if he used the weapon
at very close range. He sprang forward to meet the
black-clad minion of Garo Nark, who was rushing at him
with outspread arms, evidently with the intention of seiz-
ing him in a crushing grasp.
Though Dick’s muscles, weakened by his incredible
experience with the vampire-monster, responded indif-
ferently to his needs, he ducked and contrived to evade
those grasping arms. Swiftly, he raised the atomic pis-
tol, brought the butt of it heavily down on his attacker’s
head.
The man crumbled, gasping, and collapsed at his feet.
A cry of horror came from Thon.
He whirled, saw the girl slowly stiffening in a dreadful
paralysis, her face a frozen mask of incredulous horror.
A huge, black-clad man was standing over her. He held
something in his hand that he had snatched from her
arm. Dick saw that it was the little instrument which
generated the electronic screen.
The roseate nimbus had vanished from the girl’s slen-
der body. She had no protection, now, from the frigid
rays, or from the horrible writhing shapes of purple flame
from the monsters.
Midos Ken and Don Galeen were surrounded in a
milling mass of struggling men. Dick glimpsed the
broad shoulders of the adventurer of space, swinging
regularly as he dealt terrific blows.
Dick swung on the man who had stripped the electronic
protector from Thon, raising the heavy atomic pistol
again. He brought it down with all the strength of his
arm, behind the man’s ear. Without a sound he toppled
to the ground.
Then, with a quick motion, Dick unfastened the elec-
tronic armor generator from his own wrist, and snapped
it about Thon’s arm.
“Death to be without it !” he muttered. “And I can’t
let her die 1”
Fearful cold struck him like a frozen blast when he
slipped the little instrument from his arm. Bitter cold,
numbing, piercing. And with it came incredible horror —
the nausea and sickness of unbroken falling, and the
hideous, waking nightmares of writhing, unnameable
things that sucked all vitality from his body. Swift
paralysis came over him.
Even as he snapped the tiny device on the girl’s arm
he swung about again, leveling the atomic pistol. He
worked the trigger rapidly, as fast as he could move his
finger. Tiny bright sparks spat from the little weapon.
Crushing explosions came swiftly; blinding bursts of
flame flashed before them. Terrific explosions shattered
man and monster — explosions that released the incalcul-
able energy of the atom.
H E fought the paralyzing cold, the vertigo of fall-
ing. Slowly he swung the weapon, shattering the
things of cold fire and their human riders with the fear-
ful, deafening blasts of atomic energy. Even if the things
can put themselves back together, he thought, I know the
men can't. This cold will get me pretty soon, but I’m
selling myself high.
Suddenly, there were no more living men or moving
monsters before him. He tried to turn, to see how
Don Galeen was faring with the men he fought. But
the swift-moving paralysis had seized his muscles. He
could not turn.
With all his will he swung his arm up again, in the
direction of the half-invisible flier at the other side of
the vast cone of blue light. He aimed, pressed the trigger
a half dozen times with the last spasdomic efforts of his
muscles.
Blinding explosions hid the flier from view for a
moment. Then it was but a twisted mass of white metal.
Then the horror held sway. Icy needles of cold
stabbed through his body. His skin seemed a stiff,
frozen armor. And still he felt the vertiginous sensation
of falling. He was falling through a void of chill blue
gloom. And appalling monsters — writhing worms of
cold green flame — were twisting about him, clinging to
him, fastening viscid, green suction disks to his body.
Then suddenly a hand drew him back from that void.
The warmth of the rosy electronic screen was about
him again. Thon had recovered, had picked up the little
instrument from the inert hand of the man who had
robbed her of it, and snapped it on Dick’s arm.
Don Galeen, huge fists still clenched, was standing over
the body of the last man he had knocked down.
About them were the still bodies of half a dozen men.
A few yards away the black rocks were splashed red with
the remains of those Dick had blown to fragments with
the atomic pistol. Beyond them were the scattered frag-
ments of the Things of Frozen Flame — masses of glis-
tening green jelly, and glittering scraps of the iridescent
wings. Living fragments. They were still glowing with
green, pulsating fires, stirring and coming together again.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
753
“Smash them up some more!” Thon cried, handing
Dick the atomic pistol, which he had dropped.
He took the weapon, fired it swiftly. In a few minutes
the spot where the things had fallen was a smoking
waste of shattered rock, the fragments of the things
hidden in the pulverized mass.
“Well, I guess they won’t get themselves back together
very soon, anyhow,” he muttered, grinning.
Thon threw her arms around his neck, kissed his cheek
impulsively.
“Oh, Dick!” she cried. “It was wonderful of you to
save me. When you exposed yourself to do it. But
you mustn’t do such a thing again! You mustn’t die!”
"I’m an old man, now !” Dick muttered gruffly. “What
does it matter about me?”
"It matters a great deal,” she told him. “And you will
soon be young again. Our way is clear to the catalyst !”
Already Don Galeen was striding forward toward the
glittering crystal on the black pyramid, guiding old Midos
Ken with a strong hand on his shoulder. Hand in hand,
Dick and Thon ran after them.
At a stumbling run, they hastened over the rugged
lava flows — a strange, fantastic scene. It was a waste of
black rock, burned and twisted. A tenebrous roof above,
and frozen blue light, surrounded with a cone of utter
blackness. The four stumbled forward, over the rocks,
toward a low pyramid of black metal, dull, unpolished.
And upon that altar was a magnificent jewel — a great,
strange crystal, scintillating with many prismatic colors,
with gleams the human eye had never seen before.
They reached it, panting with excitement and exertion.
The pyramid was low, not three feet high. Its base
was deep in the volcanic rock. The wondrous stone was
set in its top. The crystal was a regular polyhedron,
with many flaming faucets, four inches through, perhaps
— darting forth scintillating rays of every hue — and of
colors known nowhere else.
Even when they were many yards from the stone, Dick
felt its rays. They struck him with a stimulating
warmth ; they infused him with an odd exhilaration. He
absorbed them like a wine of delight. Sheer, buoyant
ecstasy filled him.
He ran the last few paces to the stone at a quickened
pace. His blood was flowing faster. New fire was in
his body. His mind quickened; his perceptions grew
keen. Sharp desires flamed up in his breast, hungers,
thirsts for achievements, for power. And with the de-
sires he felt new ability and energy.
He paused before the marvelous stone on the black
pyramid, threw wide his arms, bathed in those living rays.
Their subtle stimulation penetrated ; his body seemed to
swell with new life.
“Oh, Dick !” Thon cried, beside him, “you are growing
young again !”
Time seemed no more as he stood there, washed in a
river of life. His heart was beating swiftly ; hot blood
was rushing through his veins. His mind was a mad
whirl of confused dreams, desires, ambitions. He was
intoxicated with the fire of youth.
Then abruptly the curious spell was passed, and he
was again aware of his surroundings. The stone had
wrought its change in him; its rays intoxicated him no
longer.
Midos Ken was standing near it as he had been, arms
thrown out, a look of rapture on his face. And the
old scientist was old no longer. A lean, tall youth he
had become. His body was erect, arrow-straight. His
muscles smooth and hard. His face was like a boy’s,
every wrinkle gone, firm and suffused with the glow of
youth. His hair was crisply black.
But his eyes were not restored.
Don Galeen, too, seemed extraordinarily stimulated.
He had not been old. But his figure seemed a trifle
straighter, his mighty shoulders a little broader, his clear
brown eyes a little brighter. His tanned skin had a
bit more of the ruddy hue of youth.
“Dick, you are young again 1” Thon cried, transported.
She seized Dick’s hand, held it up for him to see. No
longer was it a gnarled, yellow claw. The skin was fresh
and pink, the flesh firm, the fingers smooth and tapering.
A lean, strong hand — the hand of a youth 1
Then it struck Dick that Thon was remarkably attrac-
tive. The fire of the wonderful crystal seemed to have
added to her already peerless youth and beauty. Her
fair skin bloomed again; her eyes were flashing. She
seemed to bubble with animated youth.
“I’m so glad — for you 1” she whispered.
He closed his lean hand about the slim white fingers
that had held it up for him to see. He looked into her
deep blue eyes. They were aglow with delight, shining
with tender concern — with love.
Slowly, reverently, he put his other arm about her
slender shoulders and drew her warm body against his.
He bent his head, and kissed her solemnly on the lips.
“/'NUICK 1” Midos Ken shouted, in a new. deep voice
that rang with energetic youth. "Break loose the
stone 1 We must get back to the Ahrora. Garo Nark
and his men are still at large, in the darkness outside the
cones 1”
Thon and Dick slipped reluctantly from their close
embrace.
Don Galeen had turned quickly to the crystal. They
stepped up beside him. The wondrous scintillant gem
was mounted in the top of a low pyramid of black metal.
It was deeply set, firm. Don caught it with a broad
hand, tugged with all his mighty strength. It did not
come free.
Quickly Thon produced the slender black cylinder of
an El-ray projector. She moved the sliding silver ring.
A narrow violet tongue leapt from the end of it, blind-
ingly brilliant. With slender, skillful fingers she plied it,
cutting the black metal prongs that held the stone.
Steam hissed up, condensed in spirals of white vapor, fell
in white flakes of snow.
The stone was loose.
Don Galeen snatched it up, fastened it in the pack
he wore on his great shoulders. They turned, hastened
across the twisted volcanic rock, toward the unbroken
black wall that enclosed the vast cone of blue light.
Safely they passed the torn waste of shattered rock,
where the explosions of the atomic pistol had blasted the
Things of Frozen Flame into indistinguishable frag-
ments. In time, the weird life that animated them might
succeed in reshaping them. But it would be no quick
process.
They reached the tenebrous wall of the cone. Without
hesitation they plunged into it — into the utter obscurity
of the lightless space from which Midos Ken’s bomb had
exhausted all the ether. They fell into single file again,
with Midos Ken in the lead, finding the way by aid of his
miraculous sense of hearing. Don Galeen came behind
him, carrying the wondrous stone of life. Then Thon.
And Dick, in the rear, guided by the girl’s light touch.
754
AMAZING STORIES
“Silence!” came the whisper of Midos Ken. “It was
somewhere out here that we left Garo Nark. The ether-
exhausting bomb left the Things of Frozen Flame help-
less. But it hurt Garo Nark no more than it does us.
If I know the Lord of the Dark Star, he will try to
make an opportunity to betray his strange allies, to attack
us, and to make off with the stone. No weapon will func-
tion in this space from which the ether has been exhausted
— we will be helpless if attacked by his whole band.”
Anxious minutes went by. Making as little sound as
possible, the four slipped forward through absolute mid-
night. But occasionally a rock was loosened beneath their
feet, clattered down into some little declivity. Each time
the sound seemed appalling. They paused in tense ex-
pectation of discovery and attack. And each time, hear-
ing nothing of an enemy, they went on again.
At last Midos Ken paused, whispered. “We are just
passing the summit of the range. We should be beyond
Garo Nark — ”
“Perhaps,” came a low, mocking voice from the dark-
ness beside them. “But not all is as it should be! I
take it that you have brought me the stone?”
Another jeering laugh came from the darkness. The
malicious laugh of Garo Nark. And above it Dick heard
the dry, demoniac chuckle of the scrawny, green-eyed
man called Pelug.
“Quick 1” Don Galeen hissed.
Touching the others, he made a mad dash to one
side, away from that Satanic, triumphant laughter. Lead-
ing Thon behind him, Dick lowered his shoulders and
charged through the darkness, as if trying to break
through the opposing line for a five-yard gain.
Fate was against him. He stumbled over an unseen
boulder, fell upon his face. Thon came down quite sol-
idly on his back. Before either could rise, a score of men
had rushed upon them from the blackness, piled upon
them and held them to the ground.
For a moment there were sounds of violent struggle
from the direction Don Galeen had taken. Then he, too,
was a helpless prisoner. Various voices announced to
Garo Nark that all four were successfully captured.
“The game is played," he said tauntingly to Midos
Ken, “and I have won 1 I have the stakes we played for.
The stone that will give endless life to me and to those
who earn my favor 1 And my blushing queen-to-be 1
“But you have aided me, Midos Ken. It was your
science which paralyzed these monsters. And it was you
who brought the stone out to me. And I am just. I
will reward you for that!”
Garo Nark laughed mockingly.
“I will give you your life 1 And your liberty 1 I will
leave you here. And the ape from the past with you!
But your weapons and your garments are mine, as spoils
of war. And if you should get cold, when this warm
darkness is gone, if you should get hungry, if the mon-
sters take you — well, remember that I warned you !”
He laughed gloatingly. Pelug’s diabolical chuckle rang
out, as did the approving grunts of other men.
“And so, farewell. I make you Lord of the Green
Star, with this ape to rule over — and the monsters who
live in the cones ! I wish you a long reign, Midos Ken.
But I warn you! Now that they have lost the stone
of life, the monsters will be hungry!
“Thon Ahrora will go with me, to be one of the
queens of the Dark Star. And Don Galeen I shall
take, too. For it may be that I shall wish to know some-
thing of the stone, which I must persuade him to reveal.
“One of my fliers was taken into a blue cone. But
the other is near. We can reach it. When this night of
yours is gone, and we can fly again, we shall be ready.
We shall escape before the monsters recover.
“And farewell to you, Midos Ken, Lord of the Green
Star!”
As the evil giant had boasted, his men had stripped
Dick and Midos Ken, removing their weapons, their gar-
ments, the little devices on their arms which generated
the electronic screens. As his thick, jeering tones died
into silence, something was thrust under Dick’s nose,
which reeked with a nauseating odor.
He reeled, his senses swam. In vain he fought the
influence of the stupefying drug. Swiftly he fell into
insensibility. For a single instant Thon’s clear, un-
daunted voice checked his rapid narcosis.
“Good-by, Dick!” she called. “I loved you!”
With the beginning of a hoarse curse from Garo Nark
ringing in his ears, he fell into complete insensibility.
CHAPTER XIII
The Derelict of Space
D ICK woke in utter darkness. Midos Ken had
laid a hand on his shoulder. He sat up won-
deringly, dropped back with a groan of black
despair when he recalled the capture of Thon, with Don
and the stone of life.
The horror of their position burst upon him. They
were alone in the frozen, rocky wilderness of the Green
Star, a score of miles from where the Ahrora lay. When-
ever the tenebrous pall of midnight lifted, the monsters
of cold flame would be abroad to search for them. He
knew that their drugged sleep had lasted many hours.
Garo Nark must have Thon, and Don Galeen, and the
precious crystal of life fastened inside his ship, secure
from rescue.
“Looks as if Garo Nark has beaten us,” Dick groaned.
“We have one chance,” Midos Ken told him. “If we
can make it back to the Ahrora — ”
“But we have no clothes, no shoes. And it must be
twenty miles.”
“I know. It will be hard. But we are both young men
again — we have the fresh fire of life in our veins. The
darkness may hold for several hours, yet. So long as it
does, we will be protected from the cold and from the
monsters. It is the only chance — ”
“All right,” Dick cried. “It looks hopeless. But count
on me to the bitter end!”
They started down the side of the mountain.
The hardships and difficulties of that journey were
incredible. The rays of the wondrous crystal had made
supermen of them — otherwise they must have died in
that mountain wilderness, or fallen victims to the mon-
sters of frozen light.
Hour after hour they stumbled forward, through utter
blackness. They were not cold — then; the ether-less
space did not carry heat from their bodies.
But the rocks were sharp ; their feet were cut to rib-
bons before they had gone a mile. Each step brought
almost insupportable agony. Sometimes Dick lifted his
feet, and felt their tortured soles with his hand. He
could see nothing, of course. But his fingers came away
sticky with warm blood.
When they came to a smooth patch of snow, it was
comforting to walk across its comparatively soft surface.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
755
Midos Ken’s hearing was almost uncannily acute. He
was able to judge the distance and contour of an object
by its echo. With this amazing faculty, he could follow
the trail they had made in coming up the mountain side
from the Ahrora.
Dick had no idea how long they were in coming down
the mountain. One’s sense of time does not operate
when the mind is tortured with pain. It seemed to him
that each step took minutes, that it was a bleak eternity
since he had stood with Thon before the crystal of life.
They were a mile from the Ahrora when the light
came back.
Despite the faintness of it, it was almost blinding to
eyes used to total darkness. For a minute or so Dick
blinked, stumbling along after Midos Ken, who had
known of the change only by the sudden chill that smote
into their unprotected bodies. Then Dick could see.
He saw the massive boulders looming about them,
dark, faintly gleaming with green radiance. He saw the
occasional patches of shining snow, and the vast, desolate
sweep of the weird desert to the south of them, shimmer-
ing with fantastic emerald radiance. He saw the rugged
line of peaks behind them, rising slightly luminous against
the green-black gloom of the glacial sky.
And he saw the flier, a tiny red cylinder lying among
the huge gleaming boulders, far ahead of them.
With the passing of the darkness, the air became sud-
denly intensely cold — numbing, bitter and paralyzing.
Dick took the lead, broke into a run, guiding Midos Ken
by the hand.
They ran desperately over the radiant green snow.
Their breath formed white clouds, and froze into par-
ticles of ice that congealed upon their bodies. At first
their bleeding feet left red prints in the green snow.
Then they were too cold to bleed.
The air they breathed in great gasps seemed to sear
their lungs.
Their bodies felt stiff, numb, as if clothed in unfeeling
armor.
And the horror crept slowly upon them as they ran ;
the vertigo of helpless, endless falling, of falling through
abysms of chill blue light, where obscene, writhing mon-
sters swarmed, clinging to them, sucking away their life.
The cold penetrated with numbing, stiffening lances.
The paralysis of cold and of unexplicable horror crept
upon them. Hands and feet became numb and dead.
And the numbness crept up their limbs.
The last of their run was an incoherent nightmare to
Dick. He could walk upright no longer. He crawled
upon hands and knees. Sharp rocks cut his naked skin,
but it did not bleed. Midos Ken crept along behind
them.
Then the red wall of the flier was above them.
Dick pulled himself up to it, hammered futilely on it
with his hands. They were too stiff to respond to the
impulse of his will.
In a gasping voice, Midos Ken sang out the series of
notes which operated the mechanism. The massive door
swung open. With a last desperate effort, Dick drew
himself inside. He remembers trying blindly to help
Midos Ken get in.
Then he lost consciousness.
When he woke, he was warm again — the automatic
heat control in the Ahrora kept the air constantly at the
proper temperature. Midos Ken was lying beside him in
the floor of the corridor. He had been able to clamber
inside and close the door.
A strange figure, skin cut to ribbons, covered with
dried blood. It seemed hardly possible that it could be
alive. But Dick could see the regular rise and fall of
the chest as it breathed. And he was in a similar
condition.
Presently he roused Midos Ken. They found antisep-
tic and healing drugs, among the supplies, and covered
their wounds with these. Neither of them was able to
walk upon his feet — the flesh had been cut off them to
the bone. They crept about the flier on hands and knees.
But the miraculous vitality that had streamed into
their bodies from the stone of life still animated them.
Their torn feet, under Midos Ken’s medical care, healed
with amazing rapidity. The time of their exposure to
the cold had been so short that no parts of their bodies
were seriously frozen. In a surprisingly short time they
were restored to health anl strength.
Only a few hours after they had recovered conscious-
ness, they crept into the bridge. The red needles of the
detectors spun uncertainly; Nark had taken the stone
beyond their range. Dick tested the K-ray generators,
and found them functioning with full efficiency. He
drew himself up by the control stand, and drove the
Ahrora out into space under full power.
The Things of Frozen Flame must have been disor-
ganized by the loss of the catalyst of life. They may
have thought the Ahrora deserted. At any rate, it seems
that they had set no watch over her. The little flier
sped out into space unopposed by the beings of the
Green Star.
Dick brought the ship to rest when the Dark Star and
the Green Star were but two faint points of light in the
Stygian void.
For many days they lay there, resting, until their
wounds were healed, so that they could walk again.
Those were terrible days to Dick, days of hopeless
anxiety, of feverish pain that was more than half mental
distress on Thon’s account.
As they waited, they planned.
“ T THINK we shall be too late,” Midos Ken said many
-l times. “Too late to do anything for Thon and Don
Galeen. But we can get back the catalyst. You will take
the stone of life back to mankind. And I am going to
die. I am going to ride the Dark Star to a flaming doom,
and rid the universe of the pirate planet 1”
“You don’t mean that — that you are going to sacrifice
yourself?” Dick had cried. “I won’t let you do that!”
“Yes,” the scientist had told him, solemnly. “I am
going to take the Dark Star down to death with me. I
am blind; life holds little joy for a blind man. I have
lived only to find the secret of life for man. I have found
it. I am ready to seek the merciful door of death. And
I shall take the Dark Star through it with me.”
On the day that they were able to stand upon their feet
again, they drove the Ahrora down to the pirate planet.
This time they did not land in the mountains. They
entered the broad, bright belt about the planet’s equator,
where its people lived in the warmth and brilliance of
innumerable atomic weather-control machines.
“Take us to Nuvon, the capital of the pirates,” Midos
Ken told Dick. “Find the crystal palace of Garo Nark,
and drive the flier into it through the arch. We will land
before his throne 1”
Dick found the patch of brighter light that marked
the city of the pirate emperor, drove the flier down
toward it. He picked out the palace of Garo Nark,
756
AMAZING STORIES
standing upon a hill in the center of the city. It was
a building of gorgeous, barbaric splendor, a colossal dome
of yellow gold, and long wings roofed with glistening,
snow-white marble. The walls were of emerald crystal,
and there were long colonnades with colossal pillars
of burning ruby.
He sent the little flier through the high arch of the
entrance, into that vast throne room, which he had seen
twice before, once on a television screen, once when they
had come to treat with Garo Nark. There was the
golden floor, the emerald walls, with deep-set ruby panels
inlaid with fantastic designs in sapphire and silver and
jet. There was the pure white, vaulted ceiling.
He landed the Ahrora bn the floor of glistening yellow
metal, before the high throne of blazing purple crystal.
The purple throne was empty.
Hundreds of guards stood about the walls, holding the
black tubes of the El-fay. Leveling them, they rushed
forward, bathing the flier in flickering violet rays, that
shimmered harmless on the red armor of neutronium.
At a low word from Midos Ken, Dick swung a handle.
The huge projector mounted in the flier revolved, sweep-
ing the golden floor with a broad beam of intense, hot
violet. The black-clad guards were destroyed like toys
of ice before a furnace blast. Wisps of white steam
drifted toward the high, white Ceiling.
“Find the detector,” the old scientist told Dick. “The
red needle will show where the stone is hidden. We
will find it. You will fly with it back to humanity. And
I will drive the Black Star to its end.”
“But Thon !” Dick cried. “We must find her 1 And
Don Galeen.”
“We are too late for that,” Midos Ken said grimly.
“You don’t know Garo Nark as I do. They may be still
alive — I fear that they are ! If so, a swift and merciful
death is all they desire. And I will give it to them 1 But
find the detector.”
Dick took the little instrument down from its place
on the wall, leveled it. The needle spun uncertainly,
failing to come to rest in any definite position.
“It doesn’t register 1” he cried. “It spins uncertainly —
just as it did when we last used it on the Dark Star,
after Garo Nark had carried off the stone.”
“Doesn’t register ?” Midos Ken echoed in dismay.
For a long time the old, blind man stood in despair.
“My life has gone for nothing,” he groaned at last.
“The stone is not on the Green Star, for we tried the
detector before we left. It is not here. Garo Nark
must have destroyed it. Bathed himself and his friends
in its life-giving rays, I suppose, and then turned an El-
ray on it, for fear that humanity would learn of it and
take it from him.”
For a time he was silent again.
Then he burst out fiercely. “The toil of my life is
lost ! But I can die more usefully than I have lived. I
can free the universe from the Dark Star and its de-
generate pirate hordes 1”
“How?” Dick asked in dazed wonder.
“You remember the enormous K-ray generators which
move this planet through space like a ship ? I am going
to find them, seize the controls, and send this world
crashing into the Green Star. True, I am a blind man,
and alone.. But the pirates have no weapons that can
penetrate my electronic armor. I have instruments which
will lead me to the great generators — I made rude tri-
angulations as we were coming in; they are located not
a mile from this palace.
“And you, Dick, are free to go back to the world of
man, and tell the story of our adventure. Perhaps you
can forget, and lead a useful life. I am sorry to part
from you, my boy. I love you. I had hoped that you
and Thon — ”
The old man’s voice broke suddenly. He set his
lean jaws, and composed his face again. Himself almost
overcome, Dick took his hand, gripped it hard.
Quickly, Midos Ken turned from the room. Dick
followed him, saw him go down the corridor to his
stateroom, and emerge in a moment. The roseate nimbus
of the electronic armor had appeared about his straight
body, and he was fitting a strange little instrument into
his pocket.
Deliberately, yet swiftly, he swung upon the door of
the flier and stepped out upon the golden floor of the
palace.
Suddenly Dick found his voice. “Stop 1” he shouted,
rushing forward. “You mustn’t do this. It’s insane!”
He grasped at the scientist’s shoulder. Electric force
struck him, hurled him back to the floor. The massive
door of the flier swung shut before him with cold finality.
He staggered to his feet, put his hand to the button
that opened the door. Then, realizing that he could
never make Midos Ken change his determination, he
hesitated. In a moment he went up the corridor to the
bridge, where he could look out.
Midos Ken had just reached the arched entrance to
the great hall. He was going out into the streets of
Nuvon. A group of men were scattering wildly about
him, while he held a little cylinder of topaz-yellow in his
hand. Several had fallen before him.
It was a strange figure— a tall, straight body, vigorous
with the new youth from the stone of life, clad in a sim-
ple, dark-green garment, and wrapped in a wondrous
nimbus of rosy flame. He was striding forward con-
fidently, despite his blindness. One hand held the little
bar of yellow crystal before him. Another was grasping
a strange mechanism, which, Dick supposed, would guide
him to the enormous K-ray generators which he sought.
He passed out of sight around the emerald wall. . . .
Out of sight, hut not out of history. . . . For we know
what he did. . . .
It was several minutes before Dick moved the Ahrora.
The fire of his life was dead. His light had gone out.
He was heavy with hopeless despair. With Thon gone,
and Don Galeen, and old Midos Ken, his interest in
existence was ended. There was nothing left for him
to do but to return to the inhabited universe and write
the record from which this history is made.
He did not move the flier until a party of men
rushed into the magnificent throne room where it lay,
pushing a strange weapon before them. That roused
him from his lethargy of despair. He swung the power-
ful El-ray of the flier upon them, sent them and the
machine hissing into a dense cloud of steam.
Then he drove the Ahrora out through the high arch,
and up into the black sky above the city of Nuvon — drove
far out into the midnight of space, until the Black Star
and the Green Star were two specks of light, distinguish-
able one from the other only by color.
He stopped the flier, let her drift motionless in space
while he watched. His black despair was too deep to
permit a keen interest in the amazing spectacle he saw.
He watched dully, without awe and without wonder.
It seemed unimportant, an inane anticlimax to the tragic
end of the great adventure. It did not matter.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
757
But it was wonderful enough. He had not been watch-
ing for an hour when the point of light that he knew
was the Dark Star moved visibly — toward the Green
Star. Midos Ken was succeeding in his colossal attempt
to destroy two worlds, at the cost of his life.
The Dark Star moved swiftly, with ever-increasing
speed.
Even so, it was hours before the two planets came
together.
Dick was looking when the fleck of white light and
the fleck of dull green became one.
There was a sudden flare-up of white incandescence.
From the distance, it looked insignificant as the strik-
ing of a match. But Dick knew that both planets had
been turned to white-hot vapor by the heat of their
impact. In a single instant, all living things upon them
had been consumed by the inconceivable heat of the
cataclysmic collision.
“At least,” Dick muttered, “it was merciful 1”
H E watched for hours longer, as the little sphere of
white gas began to lose its heat and contract a little.
Its vivid white dimmed a little, reddened.
At last he stirred and picked up the little detector
which he had dropped on the floor of the bridge, upon
the discovery that the stone of life was not on the Dark
Star. He had let it fall in the dismay of the moment.
Now he balanced it idly on his hand, carelessly watch-
ing the scarlet pointer. It vibrated, then steadied, became
fixed, pointing off into the black void of space.
At first it did not seem strange to his despair-deadened
mind that the needle should do this. The import of it
came to him slowly. Then he shouted in wild astonish-
ment:
“The stone out here 1 It can’t be 1”
Great weakness came over him suddenly. His limbs
trembled. Sweat broke out upon his brow. His heart
beat hard and fast, up in his throat. He felt a curious
dryness of the tongue. His breath came in quick, short
gasps.
"The stone! The ship! Garo Nark!”
He almost babbled the words. His brain was a mad
whirl of fear and hope. A storm of emotion had shat-
tered the tragic calm of his despair. If the stone were
out here in space, it must be in Garo Nark’s ship. And
if the ship were here Thon and Don Galeen might still
be in it. Might be safe !
A slender hope. It swept over his body like a swift
flame, quickly quenched by a black flood of fear.
He fought to control his trembling limbs. Holding
the little indicator in one hand, watching the red needle,
he sought the control lever of the flier, and swung it
about until the bow was pointed in the direction the
scarlet needle indicated.
Then, eyes on the telescope screen and the red pointer,
alternately, he pressed down the white cylinder of the
accelerator. With the full power of the K-ray genera-
tors on, he flashed through space, following the scarlet
needle.
Mad hope and crushing fear racked him.
Minutes went by — minutes of tense, throbbing anxiety
— minutes that seemed doubt-laden years — minutes of
straining attention, of feverish hope, of blasting fear.
Then he saw the flier.
It was almost invisible; he would never have discov-
ered it without the red pointer to guide him. He saw it
first by swinging about, so that it came between him
and the little, reddening sun which was all that remained
of the two planets Midos Ken had sent hurtling together
in cosmic cataclysm.
A little black cylinder against the dull red disk of
light.
He flashed down to it, brought the Ahrora up beside it.
The walls of the flier were black, unbroken. Her navi-
gating lights were dead. No faintest gleam came from
the ports, or from the observation windows of the bridge.
She was not moving. There was no purple glow about
her stern ; the K-ray generators were stopped.
The ship seemed deserted, a derelict of space.
But the red needle showed that the precious stone of
life was inside her.
Dick’s fresh hope fell low. There was no sign of
life about the ship. Had the Things of Frozen Flame
contrived to reach out into space and annihilate those
aboard her? Or had some accident stopped the ven-
tilating system, or released poison gases, or destroyed the
power plants?
He maneuvered the Ahrora to the black side of the
huge vessel, left it to be held by gravitational attraction.
He hurried to the store-room, donned an air-tight space
suit, fitted with atomic heating pads, oxygen-generator,
and air-purifier.
In feverish haste he selected a small El-ray tube,
opened the massive door of the flier, and walking across
the hull of the black flier, held to it by its gravitational
pull, he selected a site of operations.
A movement of the sliding silver ring on the little
black tube produced a brilliant cone of violet light flicker-
ing from its tip. He brought the tongue of flame against
the black wall of the flier.
The black, light-absorbing pigment of the invisibility
compound vanished in a hissing wraith of steam. Be-
neath was white metal, and the metal was swiftly cut
away by the ray. Clouds of. steam swirled up, con-
densed in the cold of interstellar space, become a ghostly
cloud of snow, hanging above the side of the vessel.
Around and around Dick moved the cutting ray, con-
trolling it with impatient fingers. He was cutting a two-
foot circle, leaving a little uncut section on the side
opposite the place where he stood. He worked in tense,
grim haste, feverishly excited.
Abruptly there was an explosion beneath him, as the
pressure of the air within the flier blew out the disk of
metal, which was still attached on one side by the section
he had not cut. The blast of air caught Dick, sent him
spinning many yards out into space. As he drifted slowly
back to the black hull, it was freezing about him, in a
white mist of tiny crystals.
He dropped through the hole, into the hull of the
flier.
Like most interplanetary ships, it was divided into
many compartments, with air-tight bulkheads between.
Air-locks connected them, so that it would be possible
for men in space suits to enter compartments which had
been broken, to repair leaks made by meteors or other-
wise.
This compartment seemed to have been part of the
quarters of the crew. It was crowded with berths. In
them were many dead men. Dick examined one of them,
and recoiled in horror.
The man in the bunk had not died from suffocation,
because of the air’s escape through the hole in the ship’s
hull which Dick had made; his first supposition was
wrong. The man had been dead many days.
758
AMAZING STORIES
The flesh was a ghastly yellow-green.
He looked at the still figures in the other berths.
They were the same. Skeletons, covered with decay-
ing, yellow-green corruption.
A ship of death !
He knew now why it had been dark and silent, with
dead lights and extinct generators. A weird plague had
wiped out the crew. Some hideous new bacteria, he
supposed, which had been picked up on the Green Star.
His hope became despair again.
He passed through an air-lock, into the corridor that
ran the length of the vessel. There he stumbled across
three more skeletons.
He hurried to the bridge, in the nose of the ship.
The weird plague had been there.
A score of men were lying dead among the instru-
ments. He found Garo Nark — distinguishable only by
the crimson garment that covered his remains, and a
skeleton very meagerly covered with the sickening cor-
ruption, he thought, must be Pelug’s, the green-eyed,
scraggy individual.
Dick left, horror-stricken.
He searched the ship from nose to tail.
The plague had visited the sumptuous quarters of the
officers, the dining rooms, the galley, the forecastle, the
storerooms, the holds, the El-ray turrets.
At last he reached the generator room, in the tail of
the ship. The air-lock leading to it was sealed. It re-
sisted his efforts to break through. Once he paused in
despair. Then, because he had found no remains that
seemed to be those of Thon Ahrora and Don Galeen, he
resumed the task, cutting away the fastenings of the air-
lock with his El-ray tubes.
The huge door swung open at last; he stumbled
through into the generator room. A narrow space,
crowded with the huge bulks of the K-ray generators
which drove the vessel.
AS he entered he heard the clatter of a dropped tool,
a sudden exclamation.
A cry in the voice of Thon Ahrora!
He ran across the room.
And he found Thon, and Don Galeen, startled at his
sudden entrance and not recognizing him in his bulky
space suit. They were clad in' greasy garments, and black
with motor oil. Don was tugging on a wrench, and
Thon had dropped her tool upon Dick’s entrance.
They had been repairing some huge, delicate mechan-
ism, which seemed to have been wrecked by an explosion.
They stared at Dick.
Swiftly he loosed the screws which held the grotesque
helmet of the space suit, lifted it from his head.
“Dick!”
Thon cried out his name, in a voice so keen, so poign-
ant with joy, that it was painful.
She ran across to him, threw her arms about the heavy
armor that covered him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his
face.
Don Galeen dropped his wrench, and came to shake
Dick’s armored hand, tears of relief and joy in his keen
brown eyes.
“How did it happen ?” Dick demanded. “How did you
come to be here, in a ship of the dead?”
“Ask Don !” Thon told him.
“First tell us how you came here,” cried Don, the
greasy adventurer. "And where is Midos Ken?”
Thon was watching Dick’s face.
“Is he — dead?” she asked slowly.
"Yes,” Dick told her. “We got back to the Ahrora.
When we were well, we flew to the Dark Star. We did
not find you — or the stone. Midos Ken used the K-ray
generators to drive the planet into collision with the
Green Star.”
“He had done his work,” Thon said, controlling her
evident sorrow and brushing tears from her eyes. “He
was ready to die, and he died as he chose.”
“The stone of life is here,” Dick said. “The detector
showed me the way.”
For answer, Don Galeen bent beside the great machine,
lifted a shining case. He drew back the lid, to reveal
the stone of life lying in soft wrappings within. The
magnificent crystal of many prismatic colors was alive
with wondrous fire.
“The greatest treasure of the universe !” he cried. “It
will give deathless youth to all who desire it!”
“And now, my question!” Dick insisted.
“Well,” Don Galeen began modestly, “you know I
was once a driver of beasts of burden on the inner planet
of Sirius. That is where I learned to smoke the tian.
There is a sort of fungus in those hot jungles that at-
tacks the bodies of men, or of any living thing from
other planets. Only the plants and animals that thrive
in those jungles are immune to it.
“And the tian is hostile to those hideous, swift-growing
moulds. Its use gives immunity. We had to use it there,
to keep from turning into heaps of greenish corruption.
That is why I use it — or why I began, at least.” He
grinned.
“And I have always carried a few of those spores with
me — spores of that deadly fungus — in a place where they
are not likely to be found when I am searched. A useful
trick we learned for protection against certain enemies
that were likely to attack our pack trains.
“So when Nark had us aboard, and safely off into
space, I crushed my little capsule of the spores. The
seed of that swift-growing fungus was free in the air.
The ventilating system carried it through the flier. Thon
and I, having recently smoked tian, were immune, of
course.
“In five minutes, almost before they realized what had
happened, the men were falling dead.
“Nark discovered it too late to reach us — he had been
saving us for the celebration of his return to the pirate
planet with the stone of life. But he was able to press
a button which wrecked this K-ray generator.
“We brought food and water in here, and sealed the
air-lock — the men the fungus brought down are not
pleasant company. And we have been working to repair
the generator that Nark smashed for us.”
Dick said nothing. But he seized the hand of the re-
sourceful adventurer of space, and crushed it in his
armored grasp.
Then he stepped back, and looked from one to the
other of the two before him — Thon Ahrora, slender,
lovely being — Don Galeen, strong, tanned, calm, in-
vincible.
“Tell me, Don,” Dick blurted out awkwardly, “do you
love Thon?”
“Love Thon?” the giant echoed. “Of course!” He
paused, staring soberly at Dick — then grinned. “Like she
was my own little sister !”
And he burst into loud guffaws of laughter at Dick’s
downcast expression at the first statement and his relief
at the second.
THE STONE FROM THE GREEN STAR
759
In a moment he stopped his merriment to add, “I love
you, too, my lad. And Thon loves you — she told me so
herself. And it isn’t hard to guess that you love her.
And I’d love nothing better than to see you happy
together !”
Again he burst into roaring laughter.
Dick stepped up to Thon, laid his armored hands upon
her slim white shoulders, and looked into her deep, warm
blue eyes.
"Then it’s true ?” he asked her breathlessly.
“It’s true. I love you, Dick,” she told him.
And disregarding the fact that Dick was encased to
his chin in an air-tight fabric of stiff armor, they em-
braced.
* * *
L ITTLE more is to be told of the story which I have
J gleaned from the voluminous notes sent me by
Richard Smith. They will shortly be published in full, of
course, under the title, “A Vision of Futurity.” Only a
few more incidents may be mentioned here.
Dick returned to the Ahrora, brought space-suits which
Thon and Don Galeen donned to go aboard the little
flier. A few months later they were back on the earth.
The catalyst of life was placed safely in the hands of
a group of scientists, who will supply the means of im-
mortal youth to all the peoples of the far-flung planets of
The
the Union of Man. The priceless gift of Midos Ken
will be free to all.
Don Galeen tired of terrestrial life after a few months.
He borrowed the Ahrora, secured a fresh supply of his
inevitable tian, adventured off to explore the quadruple
star — the group of four suns — toward which he had been
cruising when he discovered the Green Star. Again he is
adventuring in worlds where man has never been.
Dick and Thon Ahrora are married, living together in
the city of silver towers, where Dick entered the world
of futurity. At the time of Dick’s last writing they had
a son and daughter, whom they have permission from
the authorities to rear in their own home. It is, Dick
says, a huge undertaking, but one which he is not going
to shirk.
Thon Ahrora still indulges in a little scientific research,
by way of recreation. She has developed her father’s
time machine to a greater degree of perfection — the ma-
chine by which Dick was drawn into this world from
our own age, through a fourth dimension.
She is able to cause the machine to hurl small objects
back through space and time, to stop at any part of the
world, and at any point and time, which may be deter-
mined beforehand. It is in this manner that the little case
found its way to my library table — the little black case of
the strange, flexible material, which contains Dick’s notes,
and one of the little statuettes of him, which was made
in the wondrous far futurity, by the lovely Thon Ahrora.
End
Luvium
By A. R. McKenzie
( Continued from page 719)
Into the housing station we went without a fear. It
was empty; absolutely barren of people. My hopes
soared to the skies. Firm in my belief that all was
in perfect accord with this break for liberty, I swung
Votta into a chair, kissed her and set out along the
very route that some months before I had traveled
with Latvu as my captor. Soon we glided to a
stop at the end of the line. The automatic controls
brought the halt that I might have missed, had it been
up to me.
Strapped to the wall were the many compact oxygen
liberators of the mine workers. Taking three of these
for our trip through the caves, we set out merrily with-
out a care in the world. We would soon be safe.
As we passed the spot where Carr had fallen, we
ceased our fun-making. If he had only lived to see that
which I had gazed upon, what wonderful ideas he might
have brought back to the upper world ! But it was not
he who had lived ; much could I tell, but little could I
explain. Votta and Latvu might help considerably with
their lifelong knowledge, but they were not Carr.
But we must return. We hurried on, lest we be over-
taken. As we rounded the final turn, my heart sank
within me and for a moment I was stunned. Across the
opening that should have been there, was a gigantic steel
door set in a frame firmly riveted to the wall. The bar-
rier itself was fastened with a series of intricate locks
that I could not have solved in a year’s time. My com-
panion, however, burst into peals of laughter.
“Look, oh surface man, how we of Luvium open such
locks,” and his nimble fingers raced over the dials, pro-
ducing a series of clicks that spoke of the shooting of
bolts.
“Many are such in Luvium,” he explained, “for often
have our tunnels been broken through by ambitious
sister cities. In each mine are such portals equipped
with combination locks and all are like this.
“Look, it is open 1”
It was ! From within came the foul air of the caves,
making it necessary to don the oxygen masks. I hesi-
tated to enter, for fear of some trap laid to destroy us.
It would not do for the three of us to blunder on some
such device, so I sent the man to the tunnel’s end to
watch for any who might have followed us. Leaving
Votta seated on the sill, I entered cautiously, ever alert
for some hidden snare. My brilliant radium flash
brought everything into startling relief. There was
nothing to arouse my fears as far as I went. I cared not
to leave the two for any length of time and so it was that
I had turned to retrace my steps when a scream of ter-
ror fell full upon my ears. My blood ran cold ! I heard
the steel door clang shut as I raced back.
But I was much too late ! One by one the bolts shot
home as I flung myself against the massive portal. It
was useless; my puny efforts were of no avail. As I
stood there, helpless, knowing not where to turn, a small
section of the door slid back to reveal the ugly coun-
tenance of that hated noble, Zemd. His yellow teeth
were bared in a triumphant leer, and long and loud was
his grating laugh of victory.
Beyond him in the tunnel, two bejeweled warriors
held the struggling Votta. Latvu was nowhere to be
760
AMAZING STORIES
seen. How had they crept up on us to carry out their
scurvy trick? I never knew. Zemd suddenly broke the
silence and dramatically played his final card.
“And now, brave Adu,” he taunted, “go back to your
mythical kingdom from whence you came. Clever are
you, but infinitely more thorough is Zemd. To ease your
mind I will explain, so that even you can understand,
how the greatest of nobles was able to do that which
even the Dedul, himself, could not.
“Your most colorful attack on the Palace was antici-
pated, though not at such a time. We give you credit
for attempting the impossible. I feared for the safety
of dear, beloved Votta, with so many of your loyal
knaves raging through the mighty fortress.
“I marvel that you failed to note the fact that no one
was courteous enough to meet you at our entrance. Ap-
parently you did not. You chose to walk straight into
our hands with unseeing eyes. I congratulate myself.
“At any time could we have killed you, but it was my
supposition that you would be infinitely more pleased to
live and know that Votta was safe. As you wander
through the endless rifts of the Voilt, think often of us,
and wish us well on our love match; and as you die,
racked with the tortures of hunger and thirst, make your
last breath a prayer for our success in ”
The man might have continued his baiting of me in-
definitely had it not been for Votta. She jerked herself
from the grasp of the unexpecting guards and rushed to
the hateful barricade and poured out her song of love.
“Adu, my own,” she cried, “I love you. Always will
I love you.”
With a growl, the enraged noble seized the girl and
hurled her back upon his fellows. He whirled on me
with his face twitching horribly, but the words, tremb-
ling on his lips, were never spoken. Down the corridor
raced a giant warrior shouting his cry of warning.
The
“Zemd, My Lord,” he shrieked, “the Dedul calls for
you. From a break in the Mines of Bodium come the
Luvaians. Even now they march upon the Palace, pour-
ing from their spacious bore in countless numbers.
Baku fears for the city, for the uprising has greatly
reduced our force. Hurry, for every man is needed.”
With that the panel snapped shut and I was left alone.
For hours I hammered on that stubborn door, until my
senses left me and my mind tottered. How I stumbled
back through the caves and the two cities to the surface
I do not know. It was night when I rose from the side
of our main shaft to Zandu to take note of my surround-
ings. There remained only the barest signs of the long,
weary hours of excavation that had uncovered the city.
I wandered for days in the trackless desert until a
friendly caravan bound for Siwah picked me up, nearly
dead of thirst.
In Alexandria I exchanged the priceless jewels for my
passage to the states and to you.
T HAT was his story. True or not I find myself,
time and again, living in my dreams his fascinating
adventures. A year has passed since that night, and save
for a cablegram or two telling of his success in outfit-
ting an expedition, I have heard nothing from him.
Often I wonder if he has once again dug his way to
old Luvium and if he succeeded in wresting his love
from the hands of Zemd. Or did he find that the raid-
ing party from Luva had completely destroyed the city?
Did he discover that Latvu had actually played false at
the fatal moment and allowed his former master to
complete his fiendish scheme?
Or did he trek out into the desert to find a jealous
sand completely hiding any trace of the forgotten city of
Zandu?
Often have I wondered.
End.
Automaton
By Abner J. Gelula
( Continued from page 70S)
cious. Go immediately to my Office in the Treasury.”
The police lieutenant, whom she addressed, heading a
squad of men carrying high powered rifles, made their
way to the office.
Opening the door, they found the correspondent lying
on the floor. With a sigh of relief, she noticed that the
man was breathing. Apparently the blow was not as
serious as she thought at first. The Automaton stood
nearby. Its malignant red ray sized up the situation in
a second and, without hesitation it strode rapidly to-
ward the Lieutenant. Leveling the pistol he held in his
hand, he aimed at the ray and fired. The glow disap-
peared, but the machine continued, to walk forward. The
policeman nimbly stepped aside and allowed the metal
brute to make its way through the door, to the steps
ahead. Without halting a moment, it missed its footing
at the first step and plunged headlong down the flight,
smashing almost completely the contents of the metal
casing. It had concluded its existence after twenty-
three years. Its first failure to calculate correctly brought
its doom!
T HERESA shuddered as she entered the State Hos-
pital building. A Machine indicated the room she
sought. She knocked at the door. A cheery “Come In”
greeted her. She turned the knob and the door opened.
An old man sat in the chair. An old man with a young
face. He arose. A lady had come to see him. Visitors
were rare, especially feminine visitors. Theresa stepped
just inside the door. She scrutinized the face of the man.
Slowly, slowly the memory of her old sweetheart found
a likeness in the features she gazed upon.
“Alan !” She moved another step forward.
That voice ! It was hers ! It was Theresa ! She had
come to him. He hesitated. He squeezed his hands.
Maybe it wasn’t real. Perhaps it was only a vision!
“Theresa,” he cried, as he grabbed her in his arms,
“you’ve come back to me — you’ve come back to me !”
“Alan, forgive ! I love you so !”
The cries of the newsboys calling “Wuxtry! Queen
Theresa resigns! Queen Theresa to be married!”
Alan and Theresa has found each other again, and the
excited news cries faded into the distance.
The End.
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
761
Half a Million People
have learned music this easy way
Y ES, over half a million delighted
men and women all over the
world have learned music this quick,
easy way.
Half a million — what a gigantic
orchestra they would make! Some
are playing on the stage, others in
orchestras, and many thousands are
daily enjoying the pleasure and popu-
larity of being able to play some
instrument.
Surely this is convincing proof of
the success of the new, modern meth-
od perfected by the U. S. School of
Music ! And what these people have
done, YOU, too, can do!
Many of this half
million didn’t know
one note from another
— others had never
touched an instrument
— yet in half the usual
time they learned to
play their favorite in-
strument. Best of all,
they found learning
music amazingly easy.
No monotonous hours
of exercises — no te-
dious scales — no ex-
pensive teachers. This
simplified method
made learning music
as easy as A-B-C !
It is like a fascinating game. From
the very start you are playing real
tunes, perfectly, by note. You simply
can’t go wrong, for every step, from
beginning to end, is right before your
eyes in print and picture. First you
are told how to do a thing, then a
picture shows you how, then you do
it yourself and hear it And almost
before you know it, you are playing
your favorite pieces — jazz, ballads,
classics. No private teacher could
make it clearer. Little theory —
plenty of accomplishment. That’s
why students of the U. S. School of
Music get ahead twice as fast — three
times as fast as those who study old-
fashioned plodding methods.
You don’t need any special “tal-
ent.” Many of the half million who
have already become
accomplished players
never dreamed they
possessed musical abil-
ity. They only wanted
to play some instru-
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and they found they
could quickly learn
how this easy way.
Just a little of your
spare time each day
is needed — and you
enjoy every minute of
it. The cost is surpris-
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— and the price is the
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Don’t miss any more good times, learn
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If you are in earnest about wanting to
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U. S. SCHOOL OF MUSIC
8611 Brunswick Bldg., New York City
Please send me your free book, “Music Les-
sons in Your Own Home,” with introduction
by Dr. Frank Crane, Free Demonstration
Lesson, and particulars of your easy payment
plan. I am interested in the following course:
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(Please Write Plainly)
Address
What Instrument
for You?
Piano
Organ
Violin
Banjo (Plec«
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Clarinet
Flute
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Hawaiian Steel
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Drums and
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Mandolin
Ukulele
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Saxophone
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Voice and Speech Culture
Harmony and Composition
Automatic Finger Control
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Italian and German
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Juniors' Piano Coarse
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762
AMAZING STORIES
November, 1931
DRAWING
toINK/oGOLD
T HE small crude sketch
(1) was drawn by Her-
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The large drawing of Lin-
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Many Earn $500 Monthly
Opportunities for artists have never been
better. Publishers pay millions for illustrations
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cash in on your talent. It’s easy to
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just as Logan had. Our Vocational
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In the Realm of Books
A New Burroughs Thriller
“A Fighting Man of Mars,” by Edgar
Rice Burroughs. Published by Metro-
politan Books, Inc., 150 Nassau Street,
New York. $2.00.
H ERE the countless Burroughs fans
find 318 pages of thrill which we
find revealed to us via the Gridley
radio wave (see Gridley the hero of
Burroughs’ intraterrestrial stories). It
seems that the narrator of the story
enters Gridley’s abandoned laboratory and
sees a message coming in on the receiv-
er’s tape, in the Gridley code, telling the
story of Hadron of Hastor of the red
race of Mars, who having fallen in love
with one of its princesses, who is ab-
ducted by a prince of a different race,
sets out to rescue her. Men of the green
race capture him by destroying his flier.
He escapes, and with him goes Tavia, a
maiden from his own city. He delivers
her to her home town, but not being be-
lieved, is imprisoned. He makes friends
with a fellow captive. Nur An, and to-
gether they escape, liberating Nur An’s
sweetheart, Phao and also Tavia, but
they are recaptured and thrown into an
abyss, from which they escape after kill-
ing a prehistoric lizard. Now they fall
into the hands of a fiend, who delights in
mental as well as physical torture, but
they escape again by means of a cleverly
constructed balloon, which finally lands
them in an ancient castle belonging to an
old scientist, inventor of a disintegrating
ray and of a defensive paint rendering
the said ray harmless. Both inventions
were appropriated by a Martian prince
and the poor inventor was exiled. Primed
with desire for revenge and hatred for
his despoiler, he has invented a paint
which makes everything invisible and an
aerial torpedo operated by remote con-
trol, which he intends to use against the
prince, who robbed him. Our hero, Had-
ron, annexes one of the invisible ships
and finally finds the beautiful princess
he thought he was in love with. Like
many of her sisters on Earth, she only
loves riches, spurns our hero and betrays
him. He and Tavia are landed in a
desert haunted by savage cannibals from
whom they escape ; then they are rescued
by the airfleet of Helium, which makes
mincemeat out of a nation which has
been disturbmg the equilibrium on Mars
for ages. They are received on the deck
of the flagship of John Carter and
Tavia and find that she is a princess of
royal blood, which is a pleasant surprise
to our hero, who in the meantime has
fallen violently in love with said Tavia,
whom he supposed to be a slavegirl.
This is the approximate outline of the
story done m_ very coarse strokes.
Every episode is preceded, surrounded
and followed by the most exciting ad-
ventures and encounters with strange
beasts and stranger people. Virtually,
there is not a page without a thrill.
— C. A. Brandt.
OvertKrowIng Old Traditions
"The Children of Mu” by Janus Church-
ward. Published by Ives Washburn.
$300. An Ethnographic and Geologi-
cal study.
A T times there is a tremendous out-
put of scientific fiction, all based
b on Atlantis, the lost continent. Oc-
casionally, an extra audacious writer
delves even deeper into the past and pre-
sents a story based on Lemuria or Mu,
about which even less is known than
about Atlantis.
Hundreds of books have already been
written about the latter, the best of which
still is “Atlantis’’ by Donelly. In this
book, Donelly attempts to prove the close
relationship between Grecian and Mayan,
Egyptian and Peruvian cults, (most of
which of course, is pure conjecture)
based on Plato’s report of a legend,
which originated in Egypt.
Along comes Mr. Churchward, with
two books : ‘The Lost Continent of Mu,”
which is shortly to be reprinted from a
privately printed first edition, and “The
Children of Mu,” and offers what he
apparently believes to be ironclad, double-
rivetted proofs that humanity originated
on the lost continent of Mu, which sank
with over sixty million people, drowning
a civilization over 20,000 years old.
Incidentally, Mr. Churchward throws a
few well-known and accepted theories
and ditto facts, into the discard.
He maintains, for instance, that man is
a creation by a Deity, that he never
evolved and never rose from savagery to
our so-called high level of civilization.
He says that on the contrary, man be-
came a savage again when Mu was lost,
etc. But despite all thiSj I enjoyed his
book immensely. Mr. Churchward did
not start in life as an ethnographer or
archeologist. As a young man, he was
sent to India, where he became acquainted
with the abbot or rishi of a monastery.
With the rishi as a teacher, he studied
Naacal, supposed to be the oldest lan-
guage of the World and together they de-
ciphered and translated Naacal stone
tablets claimed to be 70,000 years old.
These tablets told of the creation and
pointed to Mu as the cradle of Man.
This apparently influenced Mr. Church-
ward’s entire life. For a period of
twelve years, he studied with the priest-
savant and then set out in search for
proof all over the world, an unending
search evidently, as he is still occupied
with it.
Naacal he claims is the key language
to all the languages of antiquity; it has
been his “Rosetta Stone,” enabling him
to translate and decipher even the un-
yielding hieroglyphs of the Mayans,
which so far have defied any attempt at
deciphering. He even produces alpha-
bets showing Mu, Maya and Egyptian
glyphs in their proper rotation. This
should produce rousing cheers from the
gentlemen who are still fussing around
the old Maya temples in Yucatan and
other places.
It may be that these scientists are sulk-
ing, since the author makes it clear that
his books are addressed to the general
reader and not to the professional scien-
tist. Mr. Churchward, in his own two
books, attempts to trace the somewhat
erratic migrations of the human race
back to Mu, the Motherland. His find-
ings are presented in a plausible way, and
whatever their real value, they show that
he must have performed herculean
labors.
There are any number of interesting
statements scattered throughout the book ;
for instance, that the civilization of Mu
was greater than our own, . including
knowledge of release of atomic energy,
etc., not even to mention flying machines.
Also the information that “Quanlan,” an
ancient Norwegian language, Gallic, the
Basque language and a dialect spoken by a
small tribe of natives in Nepal are identi-
cal, is quite startling, to say the least.
These two items should furnish a work-
ing basis for some scientific fiction yarns,
and to all who have ambitions in that di-
rection, the book is specially recom-
mended.— C. A. Brandt.
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
DISCUSSIONS
In this department we shall discuss, every month, topics of interest to readers. The
editors invite correspondence on all subjects directly or indirectly related to the stories
appearing in this magazine. In case a special personal answer is required, a nominal
fee of 25c to Cover time and postage Is required.
A DISCUSSION ABOUT THE BENDING A PLEA FOR REPRINTS, AND SOME
OF LIGHT RAYS BRICKBATS
Editor, Amazing Stories: Editor, Amazing Stories:
Your magazine has been my constant com- I have read some of your first issues, and
panion through my latter years of high school some of the latest. Your first copies were
and into my first two years of college. Hav- "swell,” but your last, to my way of thinking,
ing often felt the urge to write and tell some of are terrible. Is the matter with me or with
your readers what I thought of them and their the stories? Now I know a good story whfii
“science,” I have just as often restrained my- I read it. Either I am losing my taste for
self with the hope that you would cease to pub- Science-fiction or Science-fiction is becoming
lish their astoundingly incoherent epistles. The tasteless, no good.
climax came, however, when I read E. F. Ger- What is the matter? Your first stories were
vais’ letter upon the “impossibility” of invisibil- mostly reprints; your latest are not. One would
ity. How you allow yourselves to publish mes- expect the present magazine to be better; and
sages from people who have had no training or one would be sadly mistaken. Why? When
background for comment upon scientific truths is the first Scientifiction stories were written, the
beyond my understanding. Does not Mr. Ger- stories would either be rejected or not sent
vais know that scientific knowledge extends to the publisher at all.
much farther in a positive direction than his “The readers don’t want such trash,” the
high school physics teaches him? He makes a Editors would say.
most Irrational statement when he Bays that light And when a Science fiction story was pub-
waves cannot be bent by any other means than lished by some daring Editor, it just had to be
refraction, for after careful thought (which is good.
an augmentation to our reading of newspapers Nowadays fhe author labels his story Science-
and scientific periodicals) It is apparent that fiction and it probably Is published. And all
there are several means by which this may be the stories are about crazy scientists and brave
accomplished without overthrowing any of our heroes.
natural laws. Astral invaders and brave hero; rocket
Flret: It is possible to force light to turn cor- planes, trips to the planets, and brave hero,
ners in the presence of a diffusing agent which. Sickening, isn’t it?
in our world, is air, but which might be any What you, Mr. Editor, ought to do is blue
other gas. Ail of us have seen illumination, pencil every story that comes in and publish
although the source of light was not pointed di- reprints. Then the present day authors will
rectly at our eyes. The light in this case is not get scared and use their brains instead of
actually bent, as is obvious, but for the pur- taking an old story, give it new characters, and
posee of invisibility it might be put to use. bring it out as their own brain-child.
Second: When a ray of light is thrown upon a The reprint idea is good. How about some
reflecting surface, it returns with its angle of of Merritt’s works? “Ship of Ishtar,” and
reflection equal to its angle of incidence. It “Metal Monster.” “The Blind Spot,” by
cannot be disputed that a bending of the light Homer Eon Flint and Austin Hall. There are
is effected by this method, although it Is rather a lot of old stories that you could reprint and
angular and sharp. I know we’d love them. And those who do
Third: As has been ascertained by careful ob- not want reprints on the grounds that they
servation, light, in passing a body of great mass, like to read new stories or they have read the
is turned from its course to an appreciable ex- story before, or that the present day authors
tent. This occurs when the light from some will starve, just say that the new stories are
stars pass the sun and cause observers on earth the old ones rehashed, and that the present day
to think that they are in a slightly shifted posi- author deserves to starve. Besides, they are
tion. - in the minority and 'tis best to please the
Fourth: Now to delve into some original majority,
theories. When a stream of air passes a solid I am seeking back numbers of Amazing
object, the layer in immediate proximity to the Stories from the first issue to August, 1927.
object is slowed down to such a degree that a Also the first Annual of Amazing Stories.
partial vacuum may be formed behind the ob- To those who have these magazines, I will
ject. If light can be conceived of as a stream trade such stories as “The Snake Mother,” by
of corpuscles, as Newton would have had it, it A. Merritt, “Jan of the Jungle,” “Prince of
is conceivable that it, too, would be affected and Peril,” “Maza of the Moon,” by O. A. Kline,
move in curves as its inner layers passed a ma- “Tama of the Light Country” and its sequel
terial of a certain kind. Invisibility could easily “Tama Princess of Mercury,” by Ray Cum-
be attained by this method if a suitable sub- mings. “Radio Menace,” “Caves of Ocean”
stance were found. and "Radio Gun Runners,” by Ralph Milne
Fifth: It has been observed by physicists that Farley. “Tarzan at the Earth's Core,” “A
light thrown in a certain way at a solid sphere Fighting Man of Mars,” by Burroughs. Those
would form a dark circle with a bright one by Merritt, Burroughs and Kline will cost a
within upon a screen placed in back of the bit more. Merritt’s “Snake Mother” goes for
sphere. The only suitable explanation for this the first Annual or his story “The Moon Pool.”
phenomenon is that the light bends around the If you wish to buy these stories, O. K. Write
solid and forms a bright circular area on the for information, enclosing self addressed
screen. stamped envelope.
Harvey Pollack, Albert Feder,
107-06 112th Street, 5949 Stanton Avenue,
Richmond Hill, N. Y. Detroit, Mich.
(The rule we go by is to publish all letters if
there are any features of general interest in them
regarding the stories published. Your first and
second statements about bending light seem to us
not to cover the ground. We would not call
reflection bending, and in the first of your sug-
gestions, you state specifically that the light is
not bent. Effective gravitation of light is so
minute that for the purpose of a story it may
generally be left out of consideration. As re-
gards your fourth statement, you show some
ingenuity in formulating the theory for a possi-
bility tangible enough for a story. The nearest
approach to a real bending of light of any con-
siderable amount is diffraction. Your fifth sug-
gestion might seem to touch upon diffraction,
but we believe you are thinking of the penumbra,
which is due to the source of light having con-
siderable area. But the central spot is dark. —
Editor.)
(It is a good tonic for an editor to receive
such letters as yours and although we get com-
paratively few of them it is a bad thing to
depend on constant use of tonics; any physician,
we think, will tell you this. It is seldom that
we get so strong a plea for reprints but we
feel that unquestionably the great majority of
our readers like original stories. In the early
days of the magazine, before we had what
we almost term a staff of authors, many re-
prints were used and these were in many cases
criticized very unfavorably, but your letter,
we assure you, will receive full consideration.
What you say about the interplanetary stories
should be read in the light of the demand for
such stories which we have so often received
and which induces us to publish them. The
back number question may be termed with us
an acute one. We are quite unable to supply
the demand. — Editor.)
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A BRICKBAT— BUT NOT A SERIOUS
ONE
Editor, Amazing Stories:
I just finished reading “Awlo of Ulm” in
our September issue of A. S. and couldn’t re-
sist sending my first comment of your — beg
pardon, “our” magazine. How could Morey
possibly make the mistake that he did on the
cover? According to the story, Kapioma’s Ray
Suit is supposed to have forty "arms” and
Courtney’s is supposed to have quite a bunch
of arms also. Then why did Morey only give
them, five extra arms each! After reading our
magazine for five years and after praising it
for just as long, I couldn’t help feeling bad to
think that you could overlook such an error.
Lest I appear too antagonistic towards A. S.
and Morey, let me say that it is the one and
only mag. for yours truly and he is, in my
opinion (or is it opinion), as good, if not better,
than the best of them.
I enjoy all of your stories and wish you and
our mag. a good and prosperous future.
Irving J. Sussman,
877 Stebbins Avenue,
New York, N. Y.
(Like many of our correspondents, or rather
like a few who throw brickbats at us, you an-
nounce yourself a friend. In "Awlo of Ulm”
there are described various ray suits — some
with few arms, such as are shown in the pic-
ture you criticize. Morey painted this cover
after studying the story and its possibilities —
he feels that he made no mistake. Undoubtedly
forty “arms” would have made an impressive
picture, but it belonged to another part of the
story. — Editor.
many of our readers. Captain Meek has been
greatly admired by them. So what can an
unfortunate editor do? Of course, we can not
carry out your idea of limiting the number of
stories an author is to write. In order to get
them of high quality, we have to study what
comes in.
Now for your questions:
A body traveling at the speed of light would
cease to have any dimension in the direction
of his motion. Following out the Lorenz con-
traction theory, it would seem to become an
infinitely thin plane, but we had better reconcile
ourselves to our authors sending their people
about at this impossible speed. It is thus far
impossible to become invisible. Messages could
undoubtedly bo sent by radio through the ether.
We do not know what the other side of the
moon is like, but there is not the least doubt
that it i» similar to the 6ide which we see.
The moon is supposed to have been torn out of
the earth when the latter was still liquid. —
Editor.)
IF BRICKBATS ARE A TONIC, THIS
LETTER OUGHT TO STRENGTHEN US
Editor, Amazing Stories:
I have finished the September issue. It
wasn’t very good. I never did like Capt. Meek
and his last two stories were as bad as the
Dr. Bird stories. A cat is supposed to have
nine lives, but Saranoff has an unlimited cum-
ber of lives.
"The Steam Shovel” was rotten.
I don’t remember how to spell the next story,
but while being the best in the issue, it also
wasn’t very good.
I started "Spacehounds of IPC” and was
very disappointed in it.
I think that three of the best stories this
year are:
"Skylark Three" — Dr. Smith
"The Metal Horde” — Campbell
"Television Hill” — McLociard
I'm not sure if the “Metal Horde” came out
this year.
Your best authors are Campbell, Smith and
Hamilton.
I hope that you will never let Scblossel write
for any other magazine. He’s the best author
of any science-fiction magazine and I want
him exclusively for Amazing Stories Quar-
terly. When a good writer writes too many
stories, most of them are rotten.
I want to ask some questions.
1. If I’m not mistaken, a body of matter
traveling at the speed of light (183,000 miles
per 6cc.) becomes "free electrons” or becomes
light itself. If that is the case, would it be
possible to go as fast or faster than light in
a space ship?
2. Is it possible to become invisible? If so,
would your body still be material?
3. Could you send messages by radio across
the ether — say from the moon?
4. Is the other side of the moon the same
as the side that faces the earth?
5. I understand that the moon is supposed to
have been thrown off the earth. What part of
the earth?
That’s all I’ve got to say except that I like
your magazine very much and always look
forward to the next issue.
Joseph Edelman,
60 East 103 rd Street,
New York City, N. Y.
(We publish this letter for two reasons. It
is a principle with us to publish letters of un-
favorable criticism just as certainly as we do
those of commendation. The peculiarity of your
criticisms is that you express dislike for what
othera of our readers like and vice versa. The
letter also asks some interesting questions. The
"Spacehounds of IPC” has been praised by
EXHAUSTED PATIENCE!
Editor, Amazing Stories:
My patience is at last exhausted. Amazing
Stories seema to be on the decline. In the
August issue the stories are terrible. “Time
Hoaxers,” "Submicroscopic” and “The Burning
Swamp” were unreadable. "Spacehounds of
IPC” is good, but Smith always toys with great
distances too much. Why must you have one
terrible story in each issue? “Cleon of Yzdral”
in the July and "Time Hoaxers” in August were
both classed by me as unreadable. I never fin-
ished "Cleon.” Smith, Hamilton, S. P. Meek
and Dr. Keller are your best writers; don’t lose
them.
I would like to point out a mistake which I
think I have found in S. P. Meek’s "Submicro-
scopic.” Courtney, when he increased his size,
found that he weighed 1200 pounds. There is
some error, somewhere, because was he not still
made up of the same material? He had neither
gained nor lost atoms, but merely condensed
them or expanded them or changed their period
of vibration. Matter being neither lost nor
gained, his weight would stay the same, the
atoms of bis structure being further apart or
nearer together.
I don’t see why readers are always kicking
about the acceleration being so great that we
coujd never reach the nearest stars. A ship
could be built that could stand almost any ac-
celeration, and if some future science brings
about anti-gravity pads, these could be placed in
the front of the ship to counteract the influence
of acceleration and any speed, even the speed of
light, could be achieved.
Why did William Koben also claim that all the
atmosphere on the moon is such that it would
rush to the cold side and freeze?
If A. Cook’s observation that the stars we see
might bo our own sun light years ago, he must
also claim that we on the solar system have
traveled faster than light at some time so that
the light of the sun is jnst catching up with us.
Are all your stories written by a staff or do
you publish stories written by others? How are
chances of "breaking in”? I have a story near-
ly finished which I am going to submit if there
is any chance.
William N. Dorn,
Jacksonville, Ore.
(If the writer of this letter will run through
the Discussions columns, be will find that there
are very few of those who write to us express-
ing such ideas as his. The stories you object to
have been greatly admired, so what can we do?
We cannot please everybody. The stories you
consider unreasonable are read by thousands. In
Captain Meek’a story, we do not recollect that
he says that the atoms in the hero’s body were
always the same in number. Why may we not
assume that they varied? You cannot expand or
condense an atom. The trouble about high ac-
celeration is not its effect on the space ship, but
on tho people who are in it. High acceleration
would be terribly exhausting and trying. It
would be like subjecting the body to a crushing
weight of perhaps several tons. We are al-
ways glad to get stories by new authors.
There is every chance of new authors "breaking
in,” except for the fact that we have a great
many stories on hand. Every story (though you
may not believe it) goes on its merit, not on its
author’s name. We have no 6taff of authors —
new ones are constantly contributing to our
columns, as you can sec by the names. — Editor.)
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
765
A COMPLIMENTARY LETTER ABOUT
DR. SMITH, ABOUT REPRINTS
Editor, Amazing Stories:
I have just received the September issue of
“our Mag” and after reading the “Discussions”
column, and part three of “Spacehounds,” I
couldn’t read any further until I sat down and
wrote you a letter of congratulation.
E. E. Smith is a master of science fiction and
his stories are marvelous. That welding scene was
too breathless, with the constant expectation of
the breaking down of the tubes. If I read it over
again, I’ll have to wear a space-suit to furnish
oxygen. And maybe A. Merritt thought that that
paragraph in “Moon Pool,” describing the “Fata
Morgana of Plantdom,” was the berries, but let
him read the section in “Spacdhounds” describ-
ing the Vorkul-Hcxan war if he wants descrip-
tion plus action. It was highly amusing to read
of the Vorkul holding a book “negligently” in
four or five hands, reading it with pne eye
while the other eye hatched a television screen.
They must either have two brains or else they
have one highly trained brain. I don’t believe
any human could do it even if his eyes could
turn different directions — but, of course, the
Vorkuls are far from human. Of course, it i9
unnecessary to say that we want, not one, but
five or six sequels to “Spacehounds,” creating a
series similar to the Arcot, Morey series by John
Campbell. Here's hoping the doctor spent his
entire summer vacation (if any) in writing the
aforementioned sequels. Let's have them no
farther than three months apart, if possible.
Now a few lines telling the editor how to im-
prove (or completely ruin) our mag. First, the
old question of cover, artists, paper, size, etc.
The cover is all right as it is, but couldn’t you
give us a cover by Wesso once in a while, and
if you can find a scene calling for machinery, let
Paul do a cover. Also try Muller on one cover,
as I am curious as to what the result would be.
Next the size: Don’t change It! A smaller
mag. requires the use of both hands and a cabi-
netmaker’s clamp to hold it open. The paper is
O.K., but I almost forgot another point, namely,
reprints. I believe the suggestion by P.
Schuyler Miller in the August issue was the
most sensible that I’ve heard yet Put out
either a reprint annual (the first annual was
mostly* reprint, you know), or a set of classics,
as he suggests, but don’t pass up the new au-
thors to put reprints in the Monthly or Quar-
terly. A few reprints I would especially like
are “Moon Pool,” “The Blind Spot” (from the
early Argosy), “Skylark of Space,” “Station
X” and “Tarrano the Conqueror.” I would also
like to see the "Second Deluge,” “Moon Metal”
and — ob, why go on? Practically sixty per cent,
of the serials and long stories and thirty or
forty per cent, of the short stories in A. S.
will be eligible as reprint classics in five more
years.
I have noticed in the last two issues that the
page opposite the editorial (which is always in-
teresting) has been left open for special an-
nouncements. Why not keep that page open
especially for that purpose in every issue? You
could announce Quarterlies, the coming of spe-
cial stories, such as "Spacehounds,” and you
might even publish the picture of and a few
lines about your more prominent authors, begin-
ning, of coarse, with Dr. Smith.
Several requests have come to change the
name to “Scientifiction.” Don’t do it. The
magazine right now is five per cent, better than
perfect and constantly improving. If this
sounds impossible, read another amazing story.
There are plenty of imaginative fiction maga-
zines, but only one science-fiction mag.
When I liegan this letter I did not intend that
it should be so long, but I had to express my
views.
Here’s hoping for the day when A. S. is a
daily a foot thick, printed in small type on
Bible paper with a story by E. E. Smith, John
Campbell, and the rest of your master authors in
each issue.
Lamont Jensen,
c/j Johnson Hotel,
Lovell, Wyoming.
(We are very sure that Dr. Smith will enjoy
your comments on his work and we are proud to
feel that we discovered him and that he has
made himself a personal friend of the staff of
this magazine. We have to agree with our
reader’s opinion, but unfortunately, Muller’s
striking new art style was disliked by many.
We feel that we are getting such good art work
as it is now, and the system is so complete, that
we hate to disturb it. We are very glad that
you approve of our use of new stories in the
Monthly and Quarterly. If we ever do publish
the portraits of our authors, we will certainly
try our best to do them justice. The poor qual-
ity of portraits, so often given in magazines,
makes us instinctively dislike them. We do
not want to change the name of our magazine.
It has won a very high standing for itself under
the present title, which certainly justifies the
retention thereof. — Editor.)
AN APPRECIATION FROM AN
ENGLISH READER
Editor, Amazing Stories:
You perceive in me another example of a con-
stant reader due to the garishness of your cover,
at which, incidentally, so many of your readers
are so intent oft directing brickbats. There is,
however, plenty of room for improvement in
this direction. A person seen reading a maga-
zine with such a cover is generally regarded by
the ignorant public as being non compos mentis.
However, the mind-stimulating material found
within the portals of A. S. admirably repays
for all the amateurish efforts of the reader in
becoming a martyr to science.
No doubt the avid interest portrayed on the
countenances of your customers gives these peo-
ple considerable justification for pronouncing
the readers as being not of sound mind. For
this I have only Mr. David H. Keller, M.D.,
Mr. Miles J. Breuer, M.D., Woods Peters and
Patrick Dutton, not to mention a few more, to
blame.
Please, Mr. Editor, give us more of Stephen
G. Hale. I have just read the April number
and “The Laughing Death” I consider the best
story in it: I simply could not put it down till
it was finished. It speaks for the masterly au-
thorship of Mr. Hale that throughout the story
I could not but compare it with “Deluge,” by
Fowler Wright, which is incidently a best seller
over here, and which I heartily recommend to
your readers.
To those unhuraan individuals who are always
earnestly entreating you to cut out the love in-
terest in your stories, I would answer that they
evidently do not realize that love is one of the
greatest scientific mysteries of all time, and that
scientists are even now endeavoring to compare
love with some as yet undiscovered form of
emanating wave which is found to be in unison
with the perfect lovers.
This is as it may be, but I can only refer
them back and ask them to digest very thor-
oughly once again that splendid story, “The
20th Century Homunculus,” a masterpiece in
itself, which forms the basis of "my reply to
them.
Whilst I am all for praising your magazine,
Mr. Editor, I must admit that some of your
stories are not only fantastically improbable but
ludicrously impossible. Take for example,
“Beings of the Boundless Blue.” It is a mys-
tery to me how Mr. Kingston could have his
clothes burst off him and yet survive the intense
cord of the higher altitudes; due to his immense
proportions; no doubt, he can survive what to
Professor Picard was his greatest danger, in-
tense cold and lack of air. Step down, sir l I
can’t believe that.
Perhaps some of your U.S. A. readers (or
others) could favor me by lending me his copy
of “The Moon Pool” about which I have heard
so much, for which I should be pleased to for-
ward him anything he might require.
I must conclude by saying continue the good
work, we have nothing like the A. S. over here.
It is one of the best magazines: Nol the best
magazine I have read for many years.
Fred A. J. Revell,
94 White Post Lane,
Victoria Park, London, E. 9.
(A very gratifying feature of letters from
our English and other foreign readers is that
they seem to like our work and we certainly can
assure our correspondents that a great amount
of thought and effort is put into every one of
our issues. A letter like the above, coming
across the water from an English friend, is
highly appreciated by us. We feel that wc need
not dread receiving unfavorable criticism from
our English readers. As regards the effects of
the cold of inter-space, we must remember that
it would be due to radiation from the body and
would be relatively less intense than if there
were air there to carry off the heat, by connec-
tion and conduction. On a cold day on the sur-
face of the earth the body loses heat because of
the cold air it comes in contact with, but in
space there would be no such action. We really
fee! that it is a triumph to win commendation
from our distant readers and we 6hall hope for
more letters from you. — Editor.)
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AN INTERESTING LETTER ABOUT
TIME AND VELOCITY RELATION,
THE FOURTH DIMENSION AND
TIME TRAVEL
Editor, Amazing Stories:
In several issues of Amazing Stories I read
with considerable interest a number of letters
from readers of the magazine which appear to
suggest that my story, “Via the Time Acceler-
ator,” published in the January number, was
not as easily understood as I thought it would
be when I submitted it to you. I refer par-
ticularly to the letters of Mr. I. L. Ingrahim
and Mr. Vincent De Nardo. I would deeply
appreciate your kindness if you permitted me
some space in your columns so that I may
endeavor to clear up the vague points concern-
ing my story.
Firstly, I am sorry to see that Mr. Ingrahim
finds the equations at the beginning of my story
unconvincing; especially when I put them there
with the view of thus proving to the reader that
the entire theory of time-travel was not as
unfeasible as “common sense” leads us to be-
lieve. Also, they furnished the only reason-
able way I could find to present the basic ideas
of my story in intelligible form to the reader.
To the technically-minded reader (as I judge
Mr, Ingrahim to be), it appears to me that the
average time-travel story must prove somewhat
unsatisfactory, for as a rule they offer few,
if any, hints as to the possible mechanical func-
tions of a time-machine, and sometimes contain
at best some perfunctory reference to a “fourth
dimension” as being at the bottom of it all.
Therefore, I tried, in "Via the Time Acceler-
ator,” to show that “time” (i. e. our measure-
ments of time, which fundamentally compose
our entire conception of time) is something
relative, that it does not pass at identical rates
for co-ordinate systems in different states of
motion, and that therefore it should be possible
to accelerate or retard the passage of time by
altering our velocities with reference to our
original co-ordinate system (i. e. the earth).
Having reached this critical point, however,
I must confess that I fell into an error I make
quite often despite my best intentions to avoid
it — namely, I assumed that the rest of the
argument was obvious to the reader without
further discussion.
My reference to vibrating particles was made
on the assumption that it was clear to my reader
that such particles constituted natural clocks;
that their rates of vibration were measures of
time-passage; and that, consequently, a par-
ticle moving through 6pace at a high velocity
would vibrate more slowly than a “stationary”
one. Therefore, the time-values measured by
that particle would be different from those
measured by the “stationary” particle.
This brings us then to the mechanical oper-
ation of Brockhurst’s Time Machine. Since it
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was obviously impractical to shoot my charac-
ter away from the earth at a tremendous vel-
ocity — approaching that of light — in order to
make his constituent atoms vibrate slower with
respect to the earth, the best thing to do was
to invent a machine which would remain on
the planet, but just the same, force Brockhurst’s
atoms to vibrate slower and thus create time-
values longer than those of the world at large.
The reason for having his atoms vibrate slower,
of course, is that in this manner physical pro-
cesses outside the influence of the machine
would appear to be speeded up to an observer
within that field of influence, so that while but
a few hours may pass by his own watch, many
years may pass by outside.
That such a machine is theoretically possible
I haven’t the slightest doubt. Astronomers
have discovered that, in full accordance with
the Einstein theory, atomic vibration is appre-
ciably slower In the intense, natural gravita-
tional fields of very massive stars than it is on
earth. “Tirao” passes more slowly on those
stars. (Remember L. Taylor Hansen’s “The
Prince of Liars”?) Now, if we could build
a machine which generates an artificial gravi-
tational fidd (such as, for example, an intense
electro-magnetic fidd), all atoms within that
field would also vibrate slower than in "free
space”; consequently time- values would be
“warped” within that field and we would have
a true Time Machine Why shouldn’t it be
possible for a good electrical engineer, within
the next few centuries# to construct such a
machine ?
However, I will admit one thing. Such a
machinq could not travel into its own Past, for
a moment’s mathematical investigation shows
that this procedure involves vdocities exceed-
ing that of light, sums greater than infinity,
and absolute frequencies of vibration less than
zero. However, for the sake of the plot in
my story I was forced to disregard this im-
possibility (?), permitting my character to
move both forward and backward through time.
Yet, even now I have an idea milling around
in my loft, which hints strongly that the “im-
possibility” I have just mentioned may be
subject to modification. At any rate, time-
traveling (into the future) does not strike mo
as a sheer impossibility.
I trust this allays Mr. Ingrahim’s doubts
about my story. Now to clear up Mr. De
Nardo’s questions.
Mr. De Nardo wishes to know how the same
machine could be in two places at the same
time, how Brockhorst was able to see himself
return from his time-journey as ho was just
beginning it, and how he could see himself
start out as he was returning. To understand
these paradoxes, Mr. De Nardo must conceive
of the plane as a /cue-dimensional body, of
which under normal conditions we see but a
single three-dimensional cross-section at any
particular instant. If, however, that four-
dimensional body is curved back upon itself so
that two sections (at different points in space)
intersect the same instant of time, then the
apparent impossibility of seeing the same thing
in two places at once disappears.
As for Brockhnrst seeing himself return
from the future before he started, and then
again seeing himself leave after he had re-
turned, that is very simply explained. On his
return from 1, 001, 930 A. D., the time-traveler
simply overshot bis mark by a few minutes,
so that he went a tiny bit farther into the
past than the moment when he began his trip.
Of course, as soon as be stopped moving back-
ward in time he began moving forward in it
again, so be again reached the instant of his
departure and was able to witness his time
machine vanish into the future. It is simply
again the case of two three-dimensional cross-
sections of a single four-dimensional body in-
tersecting the same moment of time. All clear?
Really, I can see no great impossibility in
the theory of time-travel, and all our present-
day logic may in the light of future accomplish-
ment appear highly illogical. If we accept the
idea of four-dimensional space-time, in which
the future and the past are co-existent with the
present, we must rather expect some violation of
our “common sense.”
I must yield a point to Mr. Ingrahim, how-
ever, when he describes the equations in “Via
the Time Accelerator” as being "cockeyed.”
They are. The reason is that when I wrote
the story, I had not developed the underlying
equations in a logical manner from a simple
mathematical base (as, shame be on me to
I admit it, I should have done), so although their
November, 1931
AMAZING STORIES
final result is correct, the equations themselves
are not exact.
Frank J. Bridge,
Milwaukee, Wise.
(This letter is so long and so well put that
it requires no comments from us, it tells its
own story. We absolutely enjoyed ^ the con-
cluding paragraph of this letter, which in its
entirety is a communication of real merit and
which makes excellent reading. — Editor.)
STREAMLINING FOR SPACE SHIPS—
THE MOTIF OF LOVE IN STORIES
Editor, Amazing Stories? .
I have just received my September issue of
A. S. In the illustration of “Spacehounds of
IPC” it shows the flying fortress of the Vor-
kulians as seven pointed stars. Why couldn’t
the vessels be streamlined like the other ships
in the picture? The Vorkuliaus didn’t travel
much in space and streamlining would save a
great deal of power.
“Spacehounds” was a good story, but I do not
think it or any other story published in A. S.
comes up to “Skylark Three.”
The illustration for “The Prince of Space”
shows his ship coming into the cylinder from
space without going into an airlock. At least
you can see outer space through the door of the
cylinder. That would let all the air out of the
cylinder, wouldn’t it?
Some of the readers object to “mush" in the
stories. I think a love element does not consti-
tute “mush.”
When are we going to have another “Sky-
lark” story?
I do not criticize your authors too much be-
cause their stories are nearly always good. They
may write a poor one, but their next one makes
up for it.
Please do not reduce the size of your maga-
zine, as that would ruin it.
Harry F. Muntls, Jr.,
Harrod, Ohio.
(The space ship moving In the vacuum of
space would move just as well when not stream-
lined, as if it were given the most careful con-
tour, because there is nothing to be pushed aside
or to be gone through. It is only in air or
some other gas that streamlining would have
a good e.'.'ect. Of course, the Vorkulians might
have made their ship “amphibious” and stream-
lined it. We cannot promise particular storiea
in the future, but we shall hope, of course, to
get another “Skylark” or its equivalent Dr.
Smith gives great care and thought to his work
and has a definite propensity to limit his output.
This is one of the reasons why his work is so
high a standard, outside of the fact that he is a
very distinguished scientist We agree with you
about the size of our magazine. We certainly
feel that it makes it more presentable where the
love motif appears in our stories. We fail to
see that this is “mush.” This topic, which plays
so great a part in the lives of humanity, we
try to have treated in a thoroughly dignified
manner, and this, we believe, our authors do. —
Editor.)
ANENT THE AUGUST ISSUE
Editor, Amazing Stories:
I am writing this, my first letter to “Discus-
sions” as an “old timer” as readers come, having
read A. S. 6ince its first year.
Youf magazine is, in my opinion, the best in
its class, but there is still room for improve-
ment. The cover illustrations are not of the
highest class because you still insist upon let-
ting Wesso or Morey do the work in their own
blundering st>lci instead of engaging the famous
Paul, the dean of all science artists. Aside
from this, everything is O.K. Keep the Editorial
and “Discussions” (yes, I read them first) col-
umns, for without them the magazine would de-
generate to the low level of its rivals.
So much for the magazine itself.
I do not agree with A. Cook’s theory in which
he stated in the August issue that the universe
is sparsely studded with stars and suns because,
in his support of the theory he suggested that
the light that we recognize as coming from a
distant 6tar might be that of our own sun and
that we are meeting it again after countless
ages have passed. This doesn’t seem to me to
be logical, as the light from the sun would
either have to take a round-about way to be only
arriving now or the sun would have to be
traveling at a speed greater than light in order
to arrive before its own light. Both of which
possibilities are impossible in the light of present
767
day knowledge. But Mr. Cook’s theory shows
a good deal of thought
The Campbell vs. Smith fracas is very inter-
esting. Personally I’m for Smith, but not know-
ing a great deal of science, I’ll keep out of it.
Also in the August iBsue, P. Schuyler Miller
expresses a desire for reprints of the old classics
to which I add my plea. When you do reprint
them, don’t forget Merritt and “The Moon
Pool,” illustrated by Pauli
M. J. Fischer,
22 Orange Rd.,
Montclair, N. J.
(We realize thoroughly that there is room
for improvement in Amazing Stories, but can-
not the same be said of any literary work? The
first line of “Paradise Lost” is open to criti-
cism for defective prosody. Nothing can be ex-
pected to be perfect in literature. We are vain
enough to think that our magazine is very good.
We are supported in that viewpoint by just such
correspondents as yourself and we can assure
you that such letters as yours are a great com-
fort to the editors. But you fail to do justice
to our artists. Wesso and Morey are excellent
illustrators in all respects. — Editor.)
A CRITICISM AND APPRECIATION OF
AMAZING 8TORIES
Editor, Amazing Stories:
Now that six years and a half have passed
since I bought my first copy of Amazing
Stories, I believe that it is about time to make
a comment
As I hold before me VoL 1, No. 1, and Vol.
6, No. 5, I deem it a pleasure to be able to con-
gratulate you on youf wonderful improvement
over the first issue that reached the newsstands
in April, 1926.
Although the entire outer appearance has
changed 100 per 'cent, for the better, there is still
that old spirit existing that caused Amazing
Stories to win such a high standard in the lit-
erary field. The spirit of having stories by men
who rank high in educational and professional
fields has been present, ever since the first sheet
went to press, and It was shown by the words on
the first cover. “Stories by H. G. Wells, George
AUen England, Jules Verne and Edgar Allan
Poe.” Today we still find that the authors are
of thi9 same high standard when we see on the
cover, ‘‘Stories by Edward E. Smith, Ph. D.,
Captain S. P. Meek, U. S. A., David H. Keller,
M. D., and others who have either earned a
Ph. D. or an M. D. after their name.
What has become of Clement Fezandie, who
wrote “Doctor Hackenshaw’s Secrets”? Is he
dead? I would surely enjoy some more of his
interesting short stories.
I would also like to know what has become of
Garrett P. Serviss and McLeod Winsor, as I
enjoyed their stories very much.
Will we ever get a sequel to E. Hamilton’s
story, “The Universe Wreckers,” and Capt.
S. P. Meek’s story, “The Drums of Tapajos”?
I myself would not care to see reprints in the
monthly magazine, but I do believe that there
should be some way arranged so that the new
readers could read those wonderful stories of
the past such as “The Second Deluge” and
“Station X.”
Could you answer this question for me? Why
is it not possible, when passing the asteroids in
a space ship, to fly over them or to go under
them instead of through them, as so many au-
thors make their ships do?
I hope that the next six and a half years will
show as much continual improvement in our
magazine as the last six years have.
Alvin Fickewirth,
6400 Holmes Avenue,
Los Angeles, Calif.
(We cannot tell you how great a comfort it is
to be assured that our magazine has improved.
It is really a labor of love with us and we want
to make it better and better, but we have to de-
pend upon our authors, they are the ones to
improve it, and upon our readers, who keep us
to the straight and narrow path. We do not
know what has become of Clement Fezandie;
we doubt if he is doing any writing now. Mr.
Serviss died many months ago. We do not know
what has become of the other author you ask
about. We shall probably be hearing from Cap-
tain Meek soon about a sequel to his story, for
wiat-h there has been an insistent demand. We
think that when you go up in a space ship, you
will find your system of avoiding asteroids an
excellent one, provided they are all confined in
their motions to the orbital planes of the planets.
— Editor.)
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November, 1931
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Roger Scott, Mgr.
427 Wi Randolph Dept. 74
Chicago, 111.
Now Is YOUR Chance j
To Win a Large Part of This
Advertising Prize Money
The money must be given. Thousands are
going to profit in cash. Someone is going to win
the choice of S3, 700 Cash or Buick 8.Sedan and
S2.500. Many have won big Cash Prizes from
us before. Now is YOUR chance. Solve the
Mystery of the Headless Horseman. Rush
your answer.!
Indiana Farmer Wins
$3,500.00 Cash
C. H. Essig, Indiana, won S3.500.00. He wrote
“I wish to thank you 3,500 times for it! Oh
boy! This is the biggest sum of money I ever
had in my life. When you think of people
working a whole lifetime and never realizing
such a sum, it is indeed a fortune.”
Carolina Preacher Wins
Dr. S. T. Willis. Pastor of the First Christian
Church, S. Carolina, won a cash prize from
us. E. C. Tillman. 111., wrote “Your check for
S525.00 came when I was out of work — it
looked like a million dollars.”
Mrs. Kate Needham, of
Oregon, won $4,705.00.
Miss Serene Burbach, of
Wisconsin, won $1,125.00.
M. D. Reidman of Minnesota,
won S2, 560.00. Hundreds of men.
women, boys and girls have been
rewarded in our past advertis-
ing campaign.
Roger Scott, Mgr.,
427 W. Randolph, Dept. 74
Chicago, Illinois
The head that fits the rider is No I am anxious
to win $3,700. Please tell me how I stand.
Name.
Address .
City ....
Runnin^HotW
From Your Cold Water
Faucet Instantan eously
| (W3£V-
A^eni
vetous
goats/ This Mar-
Invention
Will Make Up to $40°~°aDaijEasy
Just plug in at the nearest electric outlet and presto ! — you have instantaneous, continuous run-
ning hot water from your cold water faucet. This tells you in a nutshell why the invention of the
Tom Thumb automatic electric hot water heater will make it easy for you to make up to $40.00 a day.
The electric heated steaming hot water comes direct from the faucet instantaneously — yes, as
quickly as you can. turn on the current and the hot water runs indefinitely until you shut off the
electricity. The Cost is small — convenience is great. Useful wherever hot water is needed — no fuss
or bother — attached to any faucet in a jiify. Works on either AC or DC current. You and your
customers will marvel and be delighted at this new discovery of electrical science. The small cost of
$3.75 for the Tom Thumb, Junior (110 volts) or $5.75 for Tom Thumb, Senior (220 volts) does
the work of any expensive hot water heating equipment costing several hundred dollars — the Tom
Thumb absolutely eliminates the plumber or any other additional expense. We are the originators,
manufacturers, owners and patentees of the famous and original Tom Thumb electric hot water
heater.
KITCHEN
No Installation — Stick One On Faucet and Sale Is Made
Think of it! No installation, no extra expense — nothing else to do but to
stick it on the faucet, turn on electricity and it is there ready for duty. Easily
removed when not wanted and easily carried to any part o'f house where cold
water is running and hot water is wanted. Has many uses — too numerous to
mention here. Fits any faucet. Weighs only 1 lb., made entirely of aluminum.
Cannot rust, no moving parts, nothing to get out of order.
If $40 A Day Sounds Good To You Rush Coupon
This new scientific invention offers tremendous sales possibilities. At the low
price of $3.75 you should be able to sell at least 40 a day. You pocket $1.00
cash commission on every sale. If you would like to know all about this proposi-
tion, sign your name and address to coupon or, better still, get started selling
at once. Attach money order for $2.75 to coupon and rush to us. We will send
complete selling outfit containing 1 Tom Thumb electric hot water heater, order
blanks, selling particulars and everything necessary to help you get started
making up to $40.00 a day at once.
Terminal Products
Co., Inc.
!
Dept. 511
200 HUDSON ST.
NEW YORK
TERMINAL PRODUCTS CO., Inc.
Dept. 511, 200 Hudson St.,
New York. N. Y.
The Tom Thumb electric hot water heater looks like a big money maker to
me. I ;.ni sure interested in knowing how to make up to $40.00 a day with
this proposition. 1 have checked below the proposition I urn interested in at
this moment,
D Unclosed find money order for $2.75. Please send me one Tom Thumb
Junior, order blanks and selling information. It is understood upon receipt of
this sample outfit I will be permitted to take orders arid collect $1.00 cash
deposit for every Toni Thumb, Jr. I sell, or $1.50 for every Tom Thumb. Sr.
I sell. It is understood I will send the orders to you and you will ship direct
to my customer C. O. D. for the balance.
□ I would like to have additional information before acting as one of your
agents. Please send this by return mail free of obligation. -M
Name ,
DOCTOR. I FACTORY
Canadians please send cash with order at same price
stliOO
mm
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